Fall To Earth
by QLTales
Summary: Al convinces Sam to go on a vacation while waiting to learn if PQL has been funded. In this prequel, things go very wrong…but Al and Sam learn about each other and their bond of friendship is strengthened and Al and Sam’s family develop a closer relation
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Bellasarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

**Prologue**

Bright blue sky and puffy white clouds, how could a day get any more beautiful? Of course, Sam wasn't really thinking about the beauty of the day sitting next to Al in the small, four-seat plane. No, instead he was thinking how it was very, very likely that his life would be ending in the next couple of minutes.

Sam had always thought that his life would end differently. Asleep in bed at a very old age after living a very full life; making love to the woman who was the love of his life; saving another person's life – for Sam they were all perfectly acceptable ways to die. Ending it crashing it into the side of a mountain, he simply didn't want to die like that.

"It'll be fun," Al had told him when he convinced Sam to go on a camping trip while they waited for word from the Committee about whether or not they would get the funding necessary to get Project Quantum Leap off the ground. Somehow he'd let Al talk him into not only the trip but getting into the small plane so that Al could fly them to some place up in the Colorado mountains. Leave it to Al not to take the direct route but instead to go the scenic way so he could show off the mountains to Sam. It wasn't even as if Sam was seeing very much of the scenery, anyway, since his intense fear of heights coupled with a tendency to motion sickness meant he was spending most of the flight with his eyes closed.

Now look where it had gotten them. Engine trouble, Al had said, and they were going to go down. Sam couldn't even find the words to tell Al just what he thought about the whole camping trip now because of the fear – no fear was what he'd pushed aside when he'd agreed to get on this tin can with propellers. What he was feeling now fear didn't even begin to describe. This was terror, plain and simple, and it clotted up his throat so that he couldn't push any words out.

As his heart rate and breathing sped up to match his terror, Sam had the thought that it wouldn't be the landing that would kill him. No, he'd probably die of a coronary or a stroke before the plane hit the ground. He had to tamp down the bubble of laughter he felt rising in his throat at the thought. Al wouldn't understand why he was laughing now and wouldn't have the patience for an explanation. He didn't want to do anything to distract Al from whatever it was he was doing with the plane - not if it meant getting down on the ground in one piece.

Al spared a quick sideways glance at Sam, "Hang on, Kid," he quickly bit out before turning his attention back to the controls in front of him.

Sam fought the urge to ask Al just what it was he was supposed to hang on to. If there was something he could hang on to that would keep the plane from falling out of the sky, he was all for it and would hang on forever if he had to. At the rate the tree line was getting closer, though, he knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Assume the crash position" briefly darted through his mind before he discarded that as less than useful information. There was no way to assume the crash position in this flying sardine can. Hell, he couldn't even bend over to scratch his ankle where it was itchy – and just why would that occur to him now?

He looked over to the grim-faced Al who fought to keep them airborne as long as possible. "There," Al said pointing out the front window. "I'm gonna try to set it down in that clearing there."

Sam leaned forward straining to see the clearing that Al was pointing to and had to bite back another bubble of laughter when he finally located it. "There?" he finally managed to choke out hearing his voice rise with his fear. The plane might be small but the clearing looked no larger than a postage stamp. How Al was going to get the plane down in that small clearing was beyond Sam's ability to understand.

The sound of breaking branches and screeching metal soon filled the cockpit as the plane hurtled down to the small patch of land Al was aiming for. Sam had the chance to yell out a heartfelt and terrified, "Oh boy!" before the ground rushed up to greet them and darkness quickly claimed him.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Pain, it was the first sensation he was aware of when he woke up. Pain followed by a buzzing in his ears that just wouldn't go away. Eventually the buzzing coalesced into words.

"…am….Sam…Wake up. C'mon don't do this to me. Wake up!" The last was punctuated with a shake of his shoulder.

"I'm awake. I'm awake," he mumbled trying to force his eyes open. When he finally did, he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing or why he was sleeping bent suspended in place by a band across his chest. Like a lightening bolt, he suddenly remembered the plane and crashing and quickly sat upright in his seat. A move which he quickly regretted as his left shoulder complained mightily.

"Oh thank God you're awake." It was Al who had been talking to him. If Al was talking then that meant he was alive and they'd both survived the crash. Well, unless they were both dead. Sam experimentally moved his shoulder just a fraction of an inch and the fiery pain that shot up and down his arm assured him that he was very much alive.

He turned his head just enough to see Al next to him. "You're bleeding," he said when he saw the blood running down Al's face.

Al made an aborted attempt to wipe the blood away. "It's nothing. I hit my head on the controls. I'm more worried about you. I didn't think you were going to regain consciousness."

"How long?" Sam asked turning his gaze to lookout the windshield of the plane. It was a mass of spider web cracks attesting to the hard landing and its contact with the trees on the way down.

"How long were you out?" Al clarified.

Sam nodded his head slightly in agreement.

"No more than five or six minutes. Guess my head must be harder than yours," Al said poking fun at Sam before quickly turning serious again. "We gotta get out of here. I don't know if there's any fuel leaking. I don't smell any smoke but that doesn't mean there isn't a fire anywhere. If there is fuel leaking..." Al let his voice trail off letting Sam figure out for himself what would happen if there was fire and a fuel leak. "Can you move?" he asked reaching over to release the clasp on Sam's safety belt.

Sam again nodded his head in agreement but this time quickly regretted it as the movement seemed to be the signal for the marching band that had taken up residence in his head to start playing a Sousa march. "Yeah, I think so," he gasped out reaching up to rub his head and feeling the bump just above his left eye. "Something's wrong with my shoulder, though."

"Yeah," Al agreed with him. "Looks like it's popped out of the joint. That must be hurting like a son of a bitch."

Sam didn't bother answering Al; the look he gave him summed it all up.

"Right," Al said seeing the look on Sam's face. "Guess I don't need to tell you that. Let's see what we can do to get out of here."

Sam looked quickly over at his side of the plane and it didn't take a genius to realize that he wouldn't be getting out that way. Impact with a tree had sheered the wing off and left that side of the small plane resembling a crumpled tin can. It was also a good explanation for his dislocated shoulder and the other bumps and bruises he was starting to feel. Realizing he could be looking like a crumpled tin can and not just the plane if they'd just been a couple of more inches to the left, Sam's breathing started to speed up.

"Don't do this right now, Sam," Al begged him immediately starting to recognize that Sam was panicking. "We don't have time for this."

"Don't do what?" Sam asked his voice unnaturally high.

In contrast to Sam's high, panicked voice, Al kept his own as steady and calm as possible. It didn't matter if he wasn't feeling calm right now. He had to project it if he was going to get Sam to calm down. "I need you not to panic right now, Kid, at least not until we're out of this mess. It'd be better if you stayed in that state of shock you've been in and not realize what happened."

"Not realize what happened? You mean you don't want me to know that we just fell out of the sky, crashed through God knows how many trees, that the one out there almost crushed me and who knows where we are or if anyone's gonna even be looking for us? Is that what you want me to forget about? Cause if it is…." Sam's words had come faster and faster until they were tripping over each other coming out.

When Al realized that Sam was going to keep going, he reached over and clamped a hand over the panicking man's mouth effectively cutting off the torrent of words. "Yeah, Kid, that's exactly what I don't want you thinking about right now. We both need to stay calm until we figure a way out of this. Now c'mon. You're gonna have slide over and come out my side."

Sam looked over to Al confused as to how he could slide over to the other side of the plane and climb down with the use of just one arm. Al sensed his friend's confusion hoping it was just a product of the moment and not a symptom of a serious injury. "I'll help you slide over so you don't have to use that arm," he explained.

It wasn't graceful or pain-free but eventually both Sam and Al managed to extricate themselves from the plane and were soon standing on the ground a short distance from it. Al had cautioned against being too close until they ascertained that there was no fuel leak and no fire. To be precise, Al was standing and Sam was sitting on the ground leaning against a convenient boulder and praying that he wouldn't soon be seeing the breakfast he'd eaten that morning before they left.

"You stay put," Al told him, "I'm going to check to see if we have fuel leaks."

Sam barely nodded his head to indicate his agreement with Al. Getting up and moving was not at the top of his "to do" list at the moment. The Sousa band was still playing in his head and even the slightest movement sent fiery waves of pain shooting down his arm, across his shoulder and into his neck. That was to say nothing about the way his vision kept deciding to blur out every now and then.

"It's all clear," Al said a few minutes later coming back around to where Sam was sitting. "She'll never be airborne again, but she's not gonna blow on us either."

"So what do we do now?" Sam asked looking up from his place on the ground.

"Now?" Al asked looking up to the sky. "Right now we get what we can out of the plane for supplies and set up our shelter pretty quick. Looks like there's a storm coming in. We're up high enough that it could bring snow."

Sam tried to push himself up off the ground to help Al get their equipment out of the plane but the blinding pain from his shoulder forced him back down with a shout and brought Al over quickly to kneel in front of him.

"You're not going to be able to move around a lot with your shoulder out like that," Al told him.

"You got any ideas?" Sam asked wiping the pain caused tears from his eyes. As a doctor he knew that the quicker the dislocation was reduced, the quicker he'd be able to use his arm. The only problem was reducing a shoulder dislocation wasn't as easy as putting a band aid on a cut and it wasn't something you just explained to a lay person and they got it right on the first try. If it wasn't done correctly, it could complicate matters even more. Still, reducing it would mean a significant reduction in pain.

"Depends on how much you trust me," Al told him.

Sam looked askance at Al's statement and Al hastened to explain, "When I was in 'Nam one of the guys I was kept prisoner with popped out his shoulder. I popped it back in for him. It wasn't pretty and it hurt like hell when I did it but at least then when they made us move he was able to."

"Do it," Sam said gritting his teeth. "The longer it's out the worse it's going to be."

"You sure?" Al asked.

"About as sure as I am about anything right now. Just do it." Sam wasn't 100 sure that letting Al pop his shoulder back into its socket was the wisest course of action. He may have gotten it right with his fellow POW in 'Nam but that had probably been pure luck. It was just as likely that this time it wouldn't work. Right now, though there wasn't much choice. There was no trauma center around to do it for him and the longer he was like this, the less he'd be able help in his own survival.

"Okay, Al told him. On the count of three. One, two," and before he got to the count of three, Sam felt him pull on his arm popping the joint back into place. Al had been right about it hurting like hell and no matter how hard he tried to hold back a scream it still came out followed shortly by his breakfast.

Al helped him to move away from the mess and lean against a tree a bit further from the wreckage of the plane. "Here, let's stick your arm here for now," he said unbuttoning one of the buttons in the middle of Sam's shirt and carefully guiding his hand and wrist to lay inside, his arm supported by the buttons below. "As soon as I find the first aid kit we can get a sling on that. You just keep still for now."

"You said on three," Sam finally gasped out.

"So I lied. You wanna sue me for practicing without a license?" Al said with a grin before getting up and heading back in the direction of the downed plane.

Sam smiled weakly. Al had no doubt done that so that the pain would come before he expected it preventing him from tensing and making it worse. He knew that was a method often followed by medical personnel and could even remember doing it himself when he was an intern. It didn't mean he had to like it when it was done to him, though.

He hoped that Al found the first aid kit fairly quickly. There was a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol in it and would welcome any pain relief it would give. The chance of both of them having a concussion was pretty good and was something he should check, starting with himself. Considering the way his vision kept getting blurry every now and then, it was a pretty good guess he probably had one. The fact that he was unconscious for…however long it had been, also pointed to a concussion.

"You got a mirror, Al…and a flashlight?" he asked when Al came back from the plane. In his hands Al had the first aid kit and Sam's coat, gloves, and MIT wool baseball hat. He had already bundled himself up in a blue down jacket, gloves, and a red beanie.

"Why?" Al asked dropping the items he was bringing to Sam down next to him.

"I need to check my eyes."

"They look beautiful, Sam. The ladies'll love 'em."

Sam looked at Al with crinkled eyes and a sarcastic grin. "Funny. Very funny. I need to check for concussion – see if my pupils are responding correctly. I need to check you as well. Just because you say your head is harder then mine doesn't mean you got out of this crash lightly," he explained.

"I'm fine, Sam, nothing to worry about," Al said waving off Sam's concern.

"You hit your head hard enough that you're bleeding. You could have a concussion," Sam pointed out.

"I didn't lose consciousness," Al reminded Sam.

"You don't need to lose consciousness to have a concussion. You still hit your head pretty hard and could have done damage."

"Fine, Sam, have it your way. There's a flashlight in the plane and there should be something in there you can use as a mirror."

Sam watched Al walk back to the plane before settling back against the boulder.

'Great, just great," Sam muttered. "Some vacation this is turning out to be. I knew I didn't want to get on that tin can but does he listen to me? No-oo. 'It'll be safe', he says. 'We'll have fun – a real kick in the butt,' he says. Yeah right, it's a real kick in the butt all right. And a real kick in the head and the shoulder too." He probed his sore left shoulder with his right hand to see if anything felt out of place. Everything felt like it was where it was supposed to be and it certainly was feeling a little better since the dislocation had been reduced, provided he didn't try to move it. Of course there was no way to know for sure that everything was back where it belonged and there were no fractures without an x-ray and he seriously doubted Al had one of those tucked away in the back of the plane. Right now he'd be happy for that bottle of painkillers – or at least for the throb in his shoulder to get in time with the one in his head.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Al rummaged around in the plane pulling out the flashlight and eventually finding a mirror. He brought them both back over and handed them to Sam.

"Can you hold the mirror for me," Sam asked.

He watched silently while Sam shone the flashlight in first one eye and then the other.

"Damn!" Sam said putting the flashlight down.

"What?"

"My pupils aren't dilating equally"

"So what does that mean?" Al asked even though he could make a pretty good guess.

"It means the odds of me having a concussion are pretty high. It's not too surprising. I lost consciousness for…however long, my head is pounding and my vision keeps getting blurry. All that adds up to a mild concussion at the very least." What Sam didn't bother to say is that although it could add up to a mild concussion he actually suspected it was a little more than just minor.

Al's heart sank. Although he hadn't been knocked out when the plane crash-landed, he had been dazed from hitting his head. When he'd recovered his senses, he'd been shaken by the loss of the wing on Sam's side and the extent of the damage to that side of the plane in general. It was at least part of the reason he'd been so concerned when Sam had not regained consciousness right away. He'd told Sam a little white lie. It hadn't been five or six minutes the man had been out for, it had been that many more than after he himself had regained his senses. He figured it had taken him at least five minutes to shake off the effects of the crash. It seemed to have slipped Sam's mind how long Al had said he'd been unconscious for. Al chalked that up to the tenseness of the situation. Sam probably hadn't even paid attention to the answer.

Al let out a breath and rubbed a hand across his face. "You're having blurry vision. Just when were you planning on telling me that little bit of information?" he asked doing his utmost to keep his voice level. Flying off the handle now wouldn't help the situation.

"I didn't think it was important," Sam tried to explain. "It comes and goes – mostly it goes – the blurriness, not my vision. Besides, there isn't a whole lot we can do out here, is there?"

"Sam, the physical state you're in is very important. It means the difference in the things we might need to do to survive this. I need to know these things and if you think not telling me is somehow going to make it better or easier or something, you're wrong. I don't think it's going to go away just because you choose to ignore it or keep it a secret."

The vision of Sam limp, arm at a strange angle had been the first thing that Al had seen clearly after the crash and it hadn't been very comforting. Sam's lack of responsiveness, along with the damage the plane had taken convinced Al that he might be dead and it had frightened him. Seeing Sam now, still in shock and pain, diagnosing himself with a concussion, mild or not, but still trying to hide some of his symptoms, made him question the great idea he'd had to get the kid out into nature. Al had figured that perhaps communing with the trees and mountains would not only help the time to pass while they waited for word from the committee but also help heal the heart he knew was broken.

Al had faced the loss of his own true love and that was the last thing he wished for his best friend. When Donna had left Sam at the altar, Al had been there for him. He saw how devastated the younger man was. Sam was coming back to himself and had been making strides all summer. Al could see he was still hurting, though. If his own experience could be used as a guide, Sam always would to some extent. Still, Al knew it was possible to move on and Sam needed to do just that. If he'd just find a nice honey, he'd forget all about Donna – at least for a little while. He sighed. Unfortunately, 'Mr. Morals' didn't work that way. Sometimes the kid could be exasperating!

"I already told you I probably have a concussion," Sam said pulling Al from his thoughts. "What difference does it make if my vision's getting blurry or not at this point? I don't think you've got a CT scanner hidden away back there do you?" Sam asked.

"Gee, I knew there was something I forgot to pack," Al said trying to lighten the mood. "You're not gonna toss your cookies again are you?" he asked getting serious again.

"No," Sam answered. "At least I don't think so. C'mon it's your turn now."

Al patiently allowed Sam to take the flashlight and shine it in his eyes moving it from eye to eye and finally declaring him concussion free. "You really must have a harder head than mine."

Al was glad that Sam was at least showing signs of his naturally easygoing nature. The fact that he could crack a few one-liners showed he was doing his best to keep a positive attitude.

"I need to clean that out and bandage it," Sam said indicating the still oozing gash on Al's head.

"And we need to get that arm of yours in a sling," Al countered. He unzipped the bag containing their first aid supplies. "Geez, you packed this thing for just about everything. What were you – a boy scout or something?" he asked when he saw the contents.

When Sam had packed the first aid equipment he had, apparently, let his medical instincts take over. "Eagle Scout," Sam off-handedly said while rummaging in the bag one-handed pulling out some antiseptic and gauze.

Al sat patiently while Sam first cleaned the wound carefully making sure there was no debris in it. It was awkward for him to do with only one good hand but he made an effort to be as gentle as he could. "A couple of butterflies should close it up," he said once he was satisfied it was cleaned.

Al pawed through the supplies, pulled out the requested bandages, ripped the packages open, and sat still while Sam used them to close up the laceration.

"All set?" he asked once Sam had both bandages in place.

"All set," Sam echoed. "Don't worry; I don't think there will be much of a scar to turn off the ladies."

"You kidding, ladies love stuff like that. It gives them something to fuss over," Al joked.

Sam laughed softly at Al's joke but quickly turned serious. "Tell me the truth now, Al; you're not hurt anywhere else are you? You don't have any pain in your neck or anything that you're trying to hide? You don't feel nauseated do you?"

"I'm not hiding anything from you, Kid. You're the one who came out on the worse end of things this time 'round."

Sam looked at Al with narrowed eyes. "Don't lie to me, Al and don't think you need to protect me or something. I might not be up to speed right now but I'm not helpless either. You said you needed to know how I was physically with nothing held back, well I need to know the same thing too."

"I'm not hiding anything, Sam. Okay, my head hurts where I cracked it open and I think I've rediscovered some muscles I'd rather forget about having but that's it. I'm not keeping something horrible from you. Okay?"

"Okay," Sam said somewhat mollified. "I want to know immediately if you do start feeling anything out of the ordinary. Just because you have no symptoms of a head injury right now that doesn't mean something can't crop up later. You feel the least bit odd I want to know about it."

"Okay, okay. Scout's honor," Al said holding up his hand. "Anything feels the least bit odd and you'll be the first person I tell."

Sam widened his eyes in mock shock, "You a boy scout? Now that's got to be the biggest surprise of the day."

"I never said I was a boy scout, Sam. I just said 'Scout's honor.' But I helped quite a few girl scouts get their merit badges," Al said giving Sam an evil grin. "And, you might want to hold off on your one-liners until I get this on you," he said holding up the sling he'd pulled out of the first-aid kit. "You wouldn't want this to end up tied around your mouth instead of supporting that arm, would you?"

Al gently put the sling on and guided Sam's arm to rest in its support. He was just about to help Sam into his coat when Sam stopped him. "Use the elastic bandage in there to bind my upper arm to my chest. Just don't pull it too tight.

Al did as Sam had requested and once the bandage was in place, helped him into the coat. The wind had picked up with the approach of the coming storm and it was a chill wind. He pulled the left sleeve inside out so it wouldn't get in Sam's way and then zipped it up.

Once that was done, he pulled the bottle of Tylenol out of the kit. "How many of these do you want?" he asked.

"Give me four of them," Sam said eager for any pain relief he could get.

"Four?" Al asked dubiously. "These are extra-strength and you're only supposed to take two at a time."

Sam pointed to himself, "MD – me doctor. Now give me four of them, please."

Al shook out four of the pills into Sam's hand. Once Sam put them in his mouth Al handed him the bottle of water he'd brought over to wash them down.

"You too," Sam said once he'd swallowed the Tylenol.

"I don't need any right now," Al said.

"Aa-ll. Don't give me that. I can see you're hurting too. Now take the damned things."

"Fine," Al said shaking out two more of the pills and swallowing them with a mouthful of water. "Happy now?"

"Oh, just ecstatic. I can't tell you how much that did to brighten my day."

Once he'd swallowed the Tylenol, Al's mind went back into survival mode. "I'm going to have to scout around a little and start getting the equipment we're gonna need to get through tonight out of the plane. I think it's probably a good idea if you keep still for a little while. You think you'll be all right if I leave you here?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"You know not to go to sleep, right."

"It's actually perfectly acceptable if I do sleep. It's one of the key ways to recover from a concussion. If I go to sleep I just need to be woken up every couple of hours to make sure I'm oriented."

"So why do they always say not to let someone with a concussion go to sleep," Al asked.

"You got me. Maybe because in the hospital they wake you every couple of hours for neuro checks people just assume you shouldn't sleep. It seems to be a pretty popular theory, though"

"Well all right, then." He headed out to get a better look the situation they were in. He walked along the debris field and realized that it was completely under a canopy of trees. It would be damned hard for the Search and Rescue planes to find them. "Damn it!" he said out loud but not loud enough for it to carry back to where Sam was. The kid didn't need to know about this on top of everything else. Hell, **he** didn't need it either.

When he'd borrowed the plane from George, he'd told him that he'd just be taking it up to Colorado for a few days and would return it good as new. Of course, he didn't expect the engine trouble either. George always kept his plane in pristine condition and Al couldn't for the life of him understand what had happened. He walked back to where he'd left Sam. As he walked, he noticed that he was breathing a bit heavier than usual. Well, maybe he'd cut down on the cigars while they were here.

0000000

Sam watched Al walk away before leaning his head gingerly back against the tree and gazing up at the sky and the threatening clouds Al had been looking at earlier and suddenly the meaning of what Al had said hit him like a fist to the stomach. At this altitude they could get snow – there's a storm coming in. That meant even if anyone did know where they were there'd be no way a search could be mounted until after the storm passed. A layer of snow on the ground could make them that much harder to find. This was sizing up to be an adventure he'd much rather not take part in.

He didn't see Al come back, just felt him nudge his leg with his foot, "Hey, you're not falling asleep on me are you?"

"No," Sam answered bringing his gaze down to Al's face. He noticed Al was a little out of breath. "Just looking at the clouds." He stopped for a moment and then added, "We're not gonna get out of this are we?"

"Of course we are," Al said but the answer came too fast and sounded too sure for Sam not to believe Al was just saying what he thought would put his mind at ease. Sam might not have been wilderness trained but he wasn't so much of a novice that he couldn't figure out they were in dire straits. His expression must have betrayed his thoughts to Al who quickly knelt down to Sam's level.

"Look, Sam, I know it looks pretty grim right now, especially with that weather rolling in but we are going to get out of this. We were planning on camping any way so we've got plenty of supplies to last us for at least a week. If we're careful, we can stretch them out longer. We've also got the tent to provide us shelter. I'm also pretty sure my last "Mayday" was received. It might take a couple of days, but we are going to be found. Besides, we were supposed to arrive by 5:00 p.m. When we don't check in, they'll start to look for us."

Sam listened carefully to what Al was saying before looking back up to the clouds that were coming in. Despite how positive Al was, Sam still wasn't so sure they'd be found. "Katie's getting married the beginning of November," Sam said softly.

"I know that," Al agreed, not quite sure where Sam was going with it.

"I'm supposed to give the bride away. What if I can't, Al? What if it's just one more time I'm not there for my family?"

"You'll be there, Sam. We're gonna be off this mountain long before your sister's wedding and you're gonna be there to walk her down the aisle. If I have to stick you on a boat and row you all the way to Hawaii you're going to be there. Trust me, Kid."

The two men stared at each other silently for several moments. Sam finally gave Al a tight nod. If Al was so sure they were going make it how could he not be?

"C'mon, now," Al said patting Sam on the leg. "Let's get you up and walking around before you go to sleep. We've got a lot of work to do."

When Al had come back over to where he'd left Sam after surveying their situation he wasn't happy with condition he found Sam in. He was sitting with his back against the tree with a fixed stare and shivering. '_I should have realized that he's still in shock. I guess I gave too much credit to the way he was handling things.' _

"I'm tired, Al," Sam said shaking his head softly. "I just want to sleep and get warm."

"I know you are, Kid, but it would do you some good to get your blood flowing again."

Sam blew out a slow breath and nodded making an effort to stand up. His arm was obviously still in pain, the Tylenol not having kicked in yet. Al finally took Sam's right arm and pulled the younger man up. He had him walk over with him to the cargo section of the plane and settled him down on the ground next to it.

"Do we have enough water?" Sam asked. "I know you said we have enough food for a week but what about water. Lack of it will kill us long before lack of food."

"I packed about two liters - one for you and one for me."

"That's not going to be enough, Al. Not in the mountains. We're going to need a lot more than that," Sam told Al looking up from where he was sitting on the ground. Al noticed that despite the short amount of time that had passed since the crash Sam was already starting to look poorly. His face was chalk white with lines of pain around his eyes and he kept squinting his eyes against the light. Al suspected he probably wasn't look like a million bucks either.

"I know we're going to need more. I brought a camping water filtration system with a micron filter. We can pump water right out of a stream if we need to."

"I guess we'll need to find a stream."

Al stood back from the plane looking around. "This area is the source of the Rio Grande. I'm sure we'll find water close by."

Sam looked up at Al, concern written into his face. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

Al answered a little too quickly. "Well, I do in general. We're in the Weminuche Wilderness area of Colorado. We were going to be camping not too far from Durango at Molas Lake but that's on the west side of the Animas River. We're on the east side, probably close to Chicago Basin.

"How can you be so sure?"

"See the mountains around us? They're high peaks, probably over 13,000 ft."

Sam squinted looking up to the mountains Al was pointing to. "How can you tell?"

"See where the timberline starts?

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Well, around here that usually starts about 11,500 ft."

"Yeah. I should have known that." Sam looked frustrated.

Al shrugged. "Well, you're just not yourself today. Probably forgetting things you know. Concussions can do that. I guess I gave you a pretty good scare too."

"I hate planes, Al, and I really hate turbulence." Sam stopped for a second and then added, "Dropping out of the sky and crash landing isn't exactly my idea of a good time!"

Al quirked a quick smile. "I can't say I'm fond of that myself." Al noticed the younger man shivering again. "Why don't you get in the plane? I think it will be safe and you need to get warmed up, or at least out of this wind. Let me see if I can find a clearing where we can start a fire without burning down the side of the mountain."

Sam got back into the plane with Al's assistance and huddled into one of the seats. He turned back to his friend. "Do you think they'll really find us?"

Al lied. The last thing the kid needed to think about was how desperate the situation might get. "Course they will. Piece of cake. You better start planning the toast for your sister's wedding." He left to find the clearing knowing a signal fire would improve their chances immensely.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Yet again Sam watched from his place while Al walked off to do whatever was necessary for them to survive. "This is getting ridiculous," Sam said aloud. "I keep sitting around and he's doing all the work. There's got to be something I can do."

Gingerly Sam pushed open the door and climbed down from the plane trying to jar his shoulder as little as possible. He decided that whoever it was that said a dislocated shoulder felt 100 better once it was reduced must have been doing some heavy duty painkillers at the time. Although it wasn't the same fiery pain he'd first felt it was still pretty tender and right now, any kind of movement of it was out of the question.

Once his feet touched the ground he held very still with his forehead pressed up against the side of the plane waiting for the dizziness his movements had caused to pass. Once the world was back on an even keel – or as even as it was going to get right now – he pushed himself away from the plane to survey the wreckage. From the side he was on the damage looked minimal but he knew if he circled around to the other side, it would be a different story. Not too far back from where the plane had finally stopped he could see the wing that had been sheered off and felt a chill go through his body as he again thought about what could have happened had the plane been just a little bit more to the left. "There's plenty of time to panic later," he told himself putting a clamp on any feelings of fear he had now. Right now he had to continue to think rationally if he was going to be any help to Al in getting out of this predicament.

Stepping away from the plane, he turned in a small circle surveying the area they were in. On all sides trees seemed to close in. The space that Al had set down in was definitely a small spot on the mountainside and he was grateful that he'd had such an experienced pilot at the controls. He didn't want to even think of what the outcome would have been with a less experienced pilot.

It didn't take long for Sam to figure out that the way the trees were closing in on them meant it wouldn't be easy for search planes to see them from above. If it snowed, it would end up that much worse, as the white of plane would blend in with the white of a fresh snowfall. He didn't think the blue striping would be much help. Going back over to the plane, he started rummaging in the cargo hold looking for any emergency flares. If and when a plane did fly over them the flares would go a long way to helping them to be seen. Once he found them, he dropped them on the pilot's seat for safekeeping.

As he pulled back out of the plane, he spied the radio and snagged it and keyed it but heard nothing in response. "Mayday, mayday, mayday," he tried anyway and waited for response. When he got none, he threw the radio down in disgust. "Must be broken," he said needlessly just to hear the sound of his own voice breaking the silence around him.

Looking back where the plane had crashed through treetops on the way down he saw the broken tree branches that littered the ground. Even if Al found a clearing where they could light a fire, they'd need wood to burn. Sam figured he could at least start collecting whatever he could. It would be slow going with the use of only one arm and he'd have to make a lot of trips back and forth but it was better than just sitting and leaving their survival completely in Al's hands. Pushing off from the plane he started following the path the plane had taken and gathering up whatever wood he could. He was thankful that at least some of it was dry limbs from dead parts of the trees.

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Al didn't have to scout far from the crash site before he located a place that would be perfect not only for a fire but also for them to set up camp. It was a flat, natural clearing close to a rock face that would provide a sheltered spot for them. He headed back to the plane to tell Sam the good news as well as to collect the equipment they'd need for the night. It was getting annoying that he couldn't seem to catch his breath.

When he got back to the plane, he found the door open and emergency flares on the seat but no Sam. "Where the hell did he go?" Al wondered aloud. It crossed his mind that Sam's head injury could be worse than the mild concussion that Sam had diagnosed and that he could have gotten disoriented and wandered off. He stepped back from the plane looking around for some kind of clue to where Sam could have gone when he saw the figure moving toward the plane not too far in the distance. Occasionally the figure would stoop over picking something up from the ground. Once the figure got close, Al was able to discern easily that it was Sam, though he still had no idea what he could possibly be doing, and started to walk toward him. As he neared the tail end of the plane, he noticed the small pile of broken branches and other assorted pieces of wood piled up there and figured out that Sam must have been collecting the wood.

He met up with the younger man a few yards off from the plane and grabbed the small pile of branches he was cradling between his right arm and chest. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Al asked heatedly. "You should know better than to go wandering off like this. What if you got lost?"

Sam matched the heat in Al's voice with his own. "I was collecting some kindling so you could make that fire you were going on about and I wasn't 'off wandering'. I was in sight of the plane the whole time. Don't you think I'm smart enough not to go wandering in a forest I know nothing about? I thought I'd do something to help instead of just sitting on my butt so why don't you just can the 'poor Sam, can't take care of himself' act. I'm perfect capable of doing whatever's necessary for us to get out of this alive."

Al blinked at the vehemence in Sam's voice and slowly realized that he had been casting Sam in the role of a victim. It was a natural instinct to watch out for the kid and it seemed even stronger now knowing that he was injured. Truth to tell, Al also felt a bit responsible for the situation they were in. He was the one who insisted on the camping trip and he was the one who insisted on flying George's plane here. He had to cajole Sam into the whole thing. If he had let Sam have his way, he'd be safe in his own home. Sure, he'd be burying himself in work like he'd done the whole summer but at least he wouldn't be walking around with a concussion and his shoulder dislocated out in the proverbial middle of no where.

"You're right," Al finally said. "You can take care of yourself. I just tend to worry about you sometimes. Sorry."

"'S'okay" Sam said. "I know it's all those natural-born leader instincts you have. You've got to let me pull my fair share of the work in all this, though, if we're ever gonna make it out."

"It's a deal," Al said. "Just next time if you're gonna disappear like that could you let me know where you're going so I don't go into overdrive with the worrying."

"Sure," Sam said resuming their walk back to the plane. "I'll just make sure to scratch you a note in the dirt."

"Ha, ha," Al mock laughed. "Aren't you just the comedian? Maybe you should hit your head more often – it seems to improve your sense of humor."

Whatever comeback Sam was going to give Al died on his lips as his face blanched of all color and he suddenly listed to the side catching himself against the side of the plane they were once again near.

"Sam!" Al yelled out dropping the armful of wood and reaching out to steady the younger man.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," Sam softly said.

"The hell you are."

Sam pushed back from Al straightening up although he didn't brush off Al's supporting hand. "I'm okay, Al. I just got a little dizzy but it's passing.

"Is it normal for a mild concussion to get this dizzy, Sam?"

"Yeah, it's normal to be dizzy with a concussion. It just caught me by surprise, that's all. Usually the worse the concussion the worse the symptoms are. If I had to take a guess, I'd say this is probably a grade three."

"I knew it, Sam. You shouldn't be doing anything at all," Al stated angrily.

Sam sighed and said simply, "Al. We just crash-landed. We have a storm coming in. If we don't get our shelter up and firewood gathered, we're going to be in a world of hurt and you can't do it all. You're not superman even if you think you are. I'll rest after we get things settled. I promise. Trust me, this isn't life threatening."

Al looked at the younger man seeing that Sam was being rational and nodded. "I can't argue with what you've said, Sam, even if I want to. You're right; we do have a lot to get done and not a lot of time to do it. But we're sticking together now; I'm not leaving you alone anymore than I have to. Let's get the tent and get it set up. We might as well bring the thermarests and sleeping bags as well. We'll have to let them puff up."

Sam nodded. Al got the tent out while Sam got the sleeping gear. Since the equipment was in stuff sacks, they were manageable to carry by the cords even with one arm. They headed over to the campsite.

"How long was I out?" Sam asked as they walked.

"I already told you," Al answered, "about five or six minutes."

Sam stopped short and turned to face Al. "You told me already?" he questioned.

"Yeah, right after you came to. Don't you remember?"

Sam screwed up his face honestly trying to remember having asked the question before. "No, I really don't remember. To tell you the truth, I really don't remember the actual crash or that much about the first couple of minutes after I came to. It's all sort of a blur. The first thing I really remember is sitting on the ground outside the plane."

Al sighed and looked Sam up and down. "I suppose you're going to tell me that's normal, too."

"Yeah, memory loss usually goes hand in hand with a concussion." Sam paused for a moment chewing on his lower lip as he debated his next words. "Don't be surprised if I ask you again."

"You mean ask me again how long you were out?" Al clarified. "Shouldn't you remember this conversation?"

"Well, theoretically, I should but it just might be something my brain doesn't want to process so I might keep asking you the same question over and over. It's called perseverating," Sam further explained seeing Al's concerned look. "Usually someone with a head injury will end up constantly asking what happened but I think a plane crash is a little too big to forget about – even if I wish I could."

Al shook his head and started back in the direction of the campsite. "There any other surprises you have for me. Your head's not going to start spinning or anything is it?"

"If that happens, I'll be just as surprised as you," Sam answered catching up with Al.

"So what do I do if you keep asking me?"

"Just answer me," Sam said. "There's nothing else you can really do."

When they got to the campsite, Al pulled the tent out of its sack, separating the poles and the stakes. He set Sam to work putting the aluminum shot-corded tent poles together as he unrolled the tent. He'd purchased the Northface Westwind back in 1982. It was still in great shape, even though he often used it when going fly-fishing. It would hold two people and with the snow coming in, he was glad that the tent was a four-season model. It didn't hurt that it handled wind well and that it was bright orange in color. That was a feature that might help the Search and Rescue teams notice them.

Al set to work putting the tent up, threading the poles into the sleeves. Sam watched the tent take shape and was impressed by the ease it went up. He recalled the tents they had used in the scouts and appreciated the higher tech equipment that Al used. A few minutes later, they threw the thermarests and sleeping bags in. Sam went into the tent backwards, sitting with his boots outside the tent in an effort to keep the inside of the tent clean. He undid the string locks and pulled the equipment out of their stuff sacks, stuffing each stuff sack into the larger one the tent had come in so that they'd be able to find them all later. He turned his attention to the thermarests and set the valves so they would self inflate to create the mattress that would keep the cold from the ground from seeping into their backs. He pulled the mummy bags out to fluff up as well.

When Al had seen the sleeping bag Sam was going to use, he'd shaken his head and insisted that Sam get a new mummy bag. The older style sleeping bag that he'd used in scouts his friend had declared unusable. He'd initially argued but finally acquiesced, knowing that Al had braved the woods more times than he had in the last ten years. Al had had him get a few other things new as well, including an internal frame pack. For the rest of the items, he'd just given Sam a list.

While Sam had been getting the inside of the tent set up, Al had gone back to get one of the backpacks. He'd picked up his first and put it into the vestibule inside the tent and then went back to get Sam's. As he walked, he noticed a stitch in his side and stopped to catch his breath again. He was in pretty good shape and still ran a few times a week, a habit he'd developed in the Navy. Well, he'd been working hard, that was probably the culprit he reasoned.

Al noticed that Sam's pack was quite a bit heavier then his. He prided himself on purchasing high quality, lightweight equipment that would serve him well. Looking in Sam's pack, he realized that Sam's Boy Scout training was probably at fault. While he greatly respected the organization, they really didn't get into the high tech materials that were available now. Instead, they basically stayed with older technology and older generally meant heavier.

Al made sure that the crash area was secured. He noted that as late as it was getting, they wouldn't be able to have much of a fire. He made sure that the wood Sam had gathered was covered to keep it dry. He had to smile when he thought of Sam doing what he could to pull his weight. The man had been through hell today and still managed to keep himself going. Al respected that kind of determination. If Sam felt he had something he had to accomplish, he'd find a way. He just hoped that Sam would be able to sustain that determination and it wouldn't evaporate as time wore on.

Arriving back in camp, he noticed that Sam had walked away but was keeping himself within view. Sam's statement that he knew not to wander off gave him confidence that the kid would be safe. He opened the tent and put Sam's pack into the vestibule, noticing that the space inside the tent was tight. Then again, with snow likely on its way, he knew it was important to have their camping equipment with them. The fact that there wouldn't be a lot of space in the tent meant that they would stay warmer as well. He also noticed that Sam had reset the valves on the thermarests so that they wouldn't lose the air when they laid on them later. He nodded. Sam was definitely observant.

Coming out of the tent, Al noticed that Sam had again come back to the camp area. Sam nodded towards the western sky, noticing the light was fading rapidly. "It's getting darker."

Al had noticed that as well. "Yeah. Well, we've almost got everything taken care of. I'll get some water boiling for dinner."

"What are we having?"

"I hope you like Turkey Tetrazinni."

Sam's furrowed his brow in concern. "That'll take too long. Don't we have something that'll be ready quick?"

"Won't take long at all," said Al, bouncing on his feet, "It's freeze dried. Just add water wait a few minutes and it's good to go. They developed the technology during the Apollo missions."

Sam's concern turned to disgust. "You mean we have to suck it out of a tube?"

Al laughed. "No. Add boiling water, wait a minute for everything to reconstitute, and voila…great food." Sam looked askance at him. "Okay…maybe not great but it does taste pretty damn good especially when you're out in the wilderness."

Sam suddenly grew pensive. "I guess I should be grateful under the circumstances."

Al came over and braced his hands on Sam's shoulders, being careful to put no pressure on the left. "Sam, it's going to be okay. I faced a hell of a lot worse situations in 'Nam. I guarantee, what we have here is like a four-star Hilton in comparison. I filed a flight plan that should provide a good idea to the Search and Rescue crews where we're likely to be. It's just a matter of time. Hey, we were going to spend the week camping anyway. Just look at it as a last minute change in destination."

Sam nodded not wanting to be a gloomy Gus. He didn't know why but he'd had a bad feeling about this whole situation, almost like a premonition. He'd felt it almost from the first moment that Al had suggested this trip but it had been easy to convince himself he was just being silly and illogical. He knew he needed some time to get away and when Al had suggested a week away, he'd been ready. If and when they got the green light for the funding on the project there'd be precious little time for any kind of vacation. Then Al had told him the plan to fly in the small plane and Sam hadn't been so sure. Still, Al had a way of convincing people, himself included, that what he was selling was absolutely the best idea in the world. Sam smiled. It was that gift that had lead to him becoming partners with Al after StarBright. If anyone could convince the committee, Al could.

"I know, Al. I'm just worried," Sam replied shaking off his thoughts.

"Makes sense, but it's not going to help us a bit." He gave Sam a pat, again careful not to jar his left shoulder. "Hey, water's boiling. Let me get our dinner." He went over and finished preparing the meal. He'd pulled out some seasoning packets and let Sam choose what he wanted. They ate in silence, glad for the warm food. Sam had to agree that the food was really pretty good. It was certainly better than he would have thought freeze-dried would taste. Despite that, Sam wasn't able to finish all of his. His head was still pounding in time with his heartbeat and even though he hadn't told Al, he was still feeling nauseated. That was to say nothing of the pain in his back – most likely a combination of the crash, his hunt for wood, and holding himself oddly to compensate for his injured shoulder.

"You need to eat more than that," Al told him.

"I'm not hungry," Sam said putting down the remains of his dinner.

"You should be," Al pointed out. "You haven't eaten anything since breakfast and that's splattered back by that rock over there."

Sam had flat-out refused to eat anything while they were in the air claiming that he was prone to motion sickness and he didn't want to do anything that might enhance the problem. Al was afraid if Sam didn't eat his full dinner now that would just complicate things down the road. By the same token, it also wouldn't help if he started vomiting again. It was a Catch 22 with no easy way out. "At least drink the water," he finally suggested. With any luck, Sam would be more up to tolerating food in the morning. Until then, the best Al could do was make sure he didn't dehydrate.

When they were finished, Sam offered to clean up the mess, taking the dishes and the extra hot water away from the campsite. There was no need to have animals too close to their sleeping quarters. As he walked back to the tent, he noticed that snowflakes had started to fall and sighed. It would be a heck of a night.

Al had built a small fire outside the tent, far enough away that it wouldn't pose a danger but close enough to provide a little light as the two men readied themselves for sleep. Sam initially complained about the tapered legs of the mummy bag but quickly became aware of how well the shape kept in body heat, something he would appreciate with the snow. Al had made him get a bag rated to -5 degrees F. He appreciated his friend's knowledge of the equipment.

As they settled down, Al said that he was incredibly tired which didn't surprise Sam at all. Al had been working mostly on adrenaline since the crash. During the few times he'd seen Al during a crisis, he'd seen him with almost endless energy and then crash hard when the crisis was over. Then he would sleep, almost immediately, almost anywhere. Once he'd found him sleeping in a lab chair.

They both fell asleep quickly. Neither knew what the next day would hold but they figured that under the circumstance, they were just grateful they had another day to contemplate.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sam didn't think he'd been sleeping for long when he felt someone shaking him awake and calling his name.

"What?" he asked groggily. "What's wrong?"

In the darkness he could barely make out Al's face hovering over his.

"You've been sleeping for a couple of hours," Al explained. "You said you could only sleep if you were woken up every couple of hours so I'm waking you."

From a medical standpoint, Sam knew Al was right. Waking someone with a concussion and seeing if they were oriented with their surroundings was useful in determining if the head injury was worse than originally thought. However, when he was the one being woken up it didn't matter what was medically sound. All he knew was that he'd been woken out of a sound sleep where he didn't feel the pain in his shoulder and where the pounding headache couldn't be felt either. Now Al had brought him back to that and all he wanted to do was to escape into the comfort of sleep again.

"I'm awake," he grumbled. "Let me go back to sleep now."

"No way. I'm supposed to ask you some questions now so I know you're brain's working the way it should be."

"Fine," Sam said with barely controlled anger. "Take your shot at playing doctor then please let me sleep."

"What's your middle name?" Al asked seemingly unfazed by Sam's irritability.

"John," Sam promptly answered.

"What's today's date?"

Sam had to stop and think about that one and realized he didn't know the date. "I have no clue," he finally confessed. "And I didn't know this morning before we left either so don't go getting bent out of shape. It's either the 22 or the 23 of September and its 1987. Are we done now? Can I go back to sleep?"

"One more," Al said. "Do you know where you are?"

"Do I know where I am?" Sam echoed back. "Of course I know where I am. I'm in Hell, that's where I am and I'm done playing this game. Now can I please go back to sleep? I'm so tired."

"I hear you on the tired," Al said settling down.

Silence soon reigned in the tent but try as he might Sam couldn't go back to sleep. He was awake now and sleep seemed so far away despite how tired he was. He soon became aware of a noise outside the tent.

"What's that?" he asked.

"What's what?" Al asked in reply. His voice sounded like he'd been on the verge of sleep.

"That noise. What is it?"

Al lay quietly for a moment listening. "It's the wind from the storm, that's all. Now go back to sleep."

Once again silence descended broken only by the sounds of the storm outside and shortly after the sounds of Al softly snoring inside.

Sam lay quietly looking up at the ceiling of the tent that was barely discernible in the darkness. He was sure it was just his imagination but it seemed like it and the walls of the tent were getting closer. He squeezed his eyes shut and chastised himself for letting his imagination run away from him. Now was neither the time nor the place to develop claustrophobia.

Resolutely he made himself as comfortable as he could in the sleeping bag being careful not to move his shoulder and willed himself to sleep. Unfortunately, it seemed as much as he shifted he couldn't seem to find a position that eased the ache in his lower back. Eventually the events of the day as well as his injuries combined and caught up with him sending him back into the comfort of sleep.

0000000

_He felt himself moving but how he wasn't sure. Hearing a gunshot, he turned and felt it enter his shoulder, causing searing pain. The force pushed him over and he was…Falling! He was falling from a great height and there was nothing he or anyone could do to stop the fall. He'd keep falling until he met the ground in a bone-breaking halt. When he hit the ground, everything would end._

With a quickly indrawn breath and a barely restrained scream, Sam jerked awake. "It's just a dream," he whispered to himself. "It's just a dream and I'm safe on the ground."

He strained his ears but the sounds of the storm had died down leaving Sam to believe that it had finally ended. How much snow had been left behind remained to be seen.

He longed to slip back to the haven of sleep but feared the dream would once again badger him. Instead, he lay quietly listening to the sounds of Al breathing next to him. Under other circumstances, he probably would have found it odd that Al continued to sleep on oblivious to any sounds that Sam might have made. Al not only had that odd ability to fall asleep anywhere and in record time but he also had the ability to be fully awake for the slightest of reasons. These weren't ordinary circumstances yet the oddity never even crossed Sam's mind.

He started to think back to the camping trips he'd been on as a child both with the boy scouts and with his family to occupy his mind. Those trips had been about fun and learning and he'd welcomed them. Although this trip should have been about enjoyment, it had also been one for healing. Sam realized he was still hurting from Donna's actions. Suddenly the thought that if she hadn't left him, he'd be curled up with her tonight rather then spending the night with Al in a tent and wondering if he was ever going to see his life's ambition come to fruition came to mind. Life's ambition, Hell! He was wondering if he or Al would even be alive to start it. Yes, this trip had quickly changed to one of survival and in the dark of night with only his own thoughts for company and the sound of Al's breathing, Sam honestly questioned his own abilities to survive in the wilderness.

Fate had chosen well when he'd been the one injured. His last experience camping had been about 10 years ago with some friends from school. They'd gone up to the White Mountains in New Hampshire but they certainly hadn't been "roughing it." He felt a chill go through him when he thought about what the outcome of the crash would have been if it were Al who'd been injured instead.

He continued listening and heard what he knew to be a coyote. He'd heard enough of them in New Mexico to recognize the sound of their howls. He guessed by the many different howls that there might be a pack of them close by. Now he was especially glad he'd cleaned up the remains of their food a good distance away from the campsite.

He suddenly realized how warm it felt in the tent. That was another thing he remembered from earlier camping trips, how cold it could get at night. When he'd been with his Boy Scout troop, they'd gone winter camping one year, setting up at Raccoon Lake close to Elk Ridge. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night, shivering. He'd pulled his two sweaters and an extra pair of wool socks out of the duffel bag that night and put them on. That had helped quite a bit but it had been hard to sleep in the bulky clothes. He also remembered having to sleep with his wool beanie on to keep the heat from escaping from his head, especially with his hair kept so short.

This mummy bag was different and he considered it from a technical standpoint. He knew it was stuffed with goose down and the times he'd spent at his maternal grandparent's house in Kentucky, where all the beds were covered with down comforters in the winter, provided him with the reference to consider his current sleeping arrangement. Goose down fluffed with air that created an insulating buffer between the cold air and the body. It was no wonder, then, that he felt so toasty - even though he couldn't move worth a flip. The top of the bag covered his head as well. He was in a little cocoon of warmth.

He also considered the space around them. While it might feel a bit enclosed, he knew that the small size of the space they were in also meant that the heat they generated would be mostly conserved within the walls. Yeah, Al definitely knew his stuff when it came to camping. He looked over to his friend, and was surprised to see him with his eyes open, looking over.

"What are you doing awake?" The moon was out and Sam could make out Al pressing against his forehead with his hand.

"Oh, I've got a headache. It woke me up." Al shook his head as if trying to shake the pain off.

"When did that start?"

"I don't know. I was sleeping. I just woke up a few minutes ago."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"I wasn't sure if you'd gone back to sleep."

"No. My shoulder's really hurting right now and I just can't get comfortable." Sam chose to forego any mention of the dream that had woken him up.

"I would imagine it still hurts pretty bad. I'm sorry that I didn't set the plane down more gently."

If he had been looking over towards Sam, Al would have noticed that the younger man's expression was one of amazement. As it was, Sam's voice carried the emotion well. "Al! We're alive! I thought for certain those last few minutes in the plane were the last ones of my life…of both our lives! I'm not saying that I'm thrilled with the outcome, but at least there's still hope." He stopped for a moment and then asked, "How long was I out, anyway after we crashed?"

Remembering that this was a symptom of Sam's concussion, Al patiently repeated, "Five or six minutes."

"I already asked you that didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did but it's okay. You said this might happen."

Sam quickly dismissed the symptom of his own injury turning his attention back to Al. "So, back to your headache, it was bad enough to wake you up?"

"It's nothing, Sam." Al said waving off Sam's concern. "Just a sinus headache. I'm sure that with the pressure changes from the storm and all, my sinuses are just acting up. I'll be fine. What about you? Is it normal to be in this much pain even if your shoulder's back in place?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Under perfect conditions, someone with a shoulder dislocation would be sent home with a prescription for Vicodin or something like that. The strongest thing we have, though, Tylenol. Where's the first aid kit anyway? We both could use a little more."

"I put it in my pack."

Sam turned on the flashlight and pulled himself to a sitting position. He unzipped the side of his bag to have some room for his arms, or rather just his right arm, to move and was assaulted by the colder air in the tent. He shivered. "Damn it's cold!"

"A lot colder out there," Al pointed out reasonably.

Sam nodded and pulled Al's pack over, looking into it and finding the first aid kit at the top. He pulled out the bottle of Tylenol but quickly realized that with just one hand he wouldn't be able to work the childproof top. Al leaned over and grabbed the bottle from him pulling off the cover and handing it back. Sam shook out six pills. Four for him…_to hell with what the recommended dosage was, as a doctor he knew there was some latitude in how much to take based on body weight and such. If he was careful, he wouldn't overdose on it_…and two for Al. His shoulder was still giving him incredible grief and he knew the extra painkiller would help ease that…at least a little. What he really needed, in addition to a stronger painkiller, was a muscle relaxant. The muscles in his shoulder, arm, and across his chest and back had been in spasm since his shoulder had popped out. The Tylenol might help to mask some of the pain but it didn't do much in the way of relaxing the muscles. They had kept a nalgene bottle of water in the tent as well and both men used it to wash the pills down.

"It should take a little time for them to work and then maybe we'll both be able to get back to sleep," Sam said after he'd returned the first aid kit to Al's pack and turned off the flashlight.

"Sounds like a plan. So, ever camp like this before?"

"Not quite like this," Sam answered remembering those childhood campouts again. "Tom and I used to go camping together. He was an Eagle Scout too. I remember when he started Boy Scouts. I was still a Cub Scout. I'd gone there from Indian Guides. We weren't allowed to camp like the older boys but Tom would take me camping, just the two of us…sometimes Dad would come with us."

"You and your brother were close?"

"Yeah, I guess we were. He was six years older than I was and at first, he wasn't really happy about having a 'baby' follow him around all the time. After the train ride, though, he seemed to accept me a little more. At least he stopped trying to put me out with the trash."

"What happened on the train ride?"

"I don't really remember. I just recall being confused, frightened, and sure that everyone was out to get me. Tom was on that trip as well. We were going up to Chicago to visit some Child Development specialists. Tom's teacher had suggested it to Mom when they found out I could read."

"How old were you?"

"Two."

"You mean to tell me you were two years old and could read? What? Like Dr. Seuss?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah," Sam said smiling fondly and thinking about the much-loved and much-worn Dr. Seuss book that had been one of his birthday gifts when he turned two. "At first it was Dr. Seuss then I got a hold of Tom's _Lord of the Rings_ that Nana Lowther had given him for Christmas. Tom was mad that I got into his books. He thought I'd tear them up or something."

"You read _Lord of the Rings_ at age two? Did you even understand it?"

"Yeah, I think I understood most of it. It was really cool – and a lot more exciting than Dr. Seuss. Wizards and bad guys and those little hobbits. Tolkien was a master story teller."

"God, Sam. You've really been like this all your life."

"Like what?" Sam asked confused.

"A Wunderkind."

"I guess that's just about the size of it." The tone of Sam's voice betrayed what he thought of that – of being so different from everyone around him. "When I was younger, I just wanted to fit in but most of the other kids teased me a lot. I wasn't exactly the most popular kid in school – especially when I skipped a couple of grades. Tom made a big difference for me. He helped me to learn how to fit in and if anyone did anything that he thought would hurt me, he'd be there to make sure it didn't happen again."

"Sounds like a great guy."

"He was. I still miss him."

"What happened to him?"

"He died when I was 16 – just before I graduated." Sam paused chewing on his lower lip and trying to decide just how much he was ready to tell Al. "I'd rather not talk it about it, though. I just…I just don't like to." He knew it was a poor excuse and really not a reason. He'd never been able to put into words his reluctance to talk about how Tom died. It wasn't logical, he knew, but it was the hardest thing for him to tell anyone that Tom had been killed in Vietnam. Besides, he didn't want to remind Al of his own time there if he didn't have to.

"Okay, Kid. I understand. Someday when you're ready I'll here to listen."

"Thanks, Al. That really means a lot to me."

By this time, the Tylenol was kicking in and both men had started yawning. Sam just hoped that the nightmare wouldn't return. He knew that sleep would help heal his shoulder and concussion. They closed their eyes, hoping that sleep would claim them again.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was another few hours before dawn broke – or as close to dawn as they'd get with the low lying clouds that persisted. Al had spent most of those few hours awake – as tired as he was, he just couldn't seem to fall asleep. Sam, on the other hand, had managed to fall back to sleep, although it had been a restless sleep. Judging by the mutterings coming from him, Al decided that Sam must have been dreaming about the crash.

The crash. That was the mystery they'd yet to solve, not that there had really been much time to do so anyway. For the life of him, Al just couldn't understand what could have caused the engine to go out the way it did. He could understand if the plane hadn't been readied for high-altitude flying and the intermix ratio of the fuel and air was off but he knew George flew up this way often. Hell, he probably wouldn't even know about this little neck of the woods if it weren't for George. No, there had to be some other reason that led to the crash. He tried to put it from his mind for now. There was nothing he could do about it here in the tent.

The quiet was broken first by the sharply in-drawn breath and then a shout of "No" from Sam. His body jerked up partially before slumping back down. Al was just about to reach over and wake him when Sam's eyes opened and he rolled his head over in Al's direction.

"You okay?" Al asked.

"'Mmm…yeah," Sam said working his arm free and rubbing his face. "I was just dreaming. There was this sound like a gunshot or something and then the plane was falling again. What time is it?" he asked glancing around and noticing that it was lighter in the tent than it had been the last time he'd woken up.

"It's about seven o'clock."

"I slept longer than I thought." Unconsciously Sam started rubbing his sore shoulder. "I still feel so tired, though."

"Well, that's no wonder. You weren't exactly sleeping restfully all the time."

Sam looked quickly over to Al. "Was I keeping you awake?"

"Nah," Al assured him. "I'd just hear you from time to time. I slept fine, though." Okay, so it was another one of those little white lies but Sam didn't need to be feeling guilty for keeping Al awake on top of everything else. Besides, Al reasoned, it wasn't Sam's restlessness that had kept him awake in any case. If he could just shake this damned sinus headache everything would be fine – well, as fine as things can get when you crash land on the side of a mountain. It was a hell of time for his sinuses to pick to act up.

"You up for some breakfast?" Al asked crawling out of the sleeping bag.

Sam made a disgusted face as if Al had asked him to eat the stuff scraped off the bottom of a shoe. "Not really. My stomach's still feeling kind of unsettled."

"I know you might not feel up to eating much right now, Sam, but you're gonna have to. There's no way you're gonna last long if you don't start eating."

"I guess," Sam reluctantly agreed. "Right now I need to go find a tree, if you know what I mean."

Al smiled slightly at Sam. "Well, you can pretty much have your pick out there."

Sam crawled out of his own sleeping bag, paused looking down at his sock-clad feet, and then to his immobilized arm. "Uh, I think I'm gonna need a hand, if you don't mind."

Al deliberately misunderstood Sam to get a rise out of him. "Sorry, Kiddo, I'll help you with pretty much anything but even I have my limits. I guess you're gonna have to make due with one hand for this one."

Sam looked over at Al taken aback by his refusal to help before the meaning of Al's words clicked into place. "I didn't mean that," he said aghast. "I can handle that by myself. I meant getting my boots on and tied." While Sam had been explaining himself Al had started to chuckle at him. "What the hell are you laughing at?" Sam asked both confused and irritated at the same time.

"You, Kid," Al answered wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "You're so easy. I knew you meant your boots I just wanted to see how far I could push you."

"That's not funny, Al," Sam chastised trying to hold back a smile of his own.

"Oh yeah? If it's not funny then why are you smiling?"

"Because…because…because this is the first thing that's happened since the crash that I've had reason to laugh at," Sam finally explained losing the battle for hold back the smile and breaking down into laughter himself.

They finally brought their laughter under control and Al helped Sam to get his hiking boots on. Sam started to crawl out of the tent with Al close behind. When he got his first good look outside, he quickly pulled back into the safety of the tent knocking into Al.

"What the hell are you doing?" Al asked.

"We've got a visitor outside," Sam explained.

Al pushed his way around Sam, crawled toward the entrance of tent himself, and peered out before quickly coming back in himself. "Aw geez, we don't need this right now," he complained.

As long as their visitor was outside there was no way they'd be going out there.

"Can't we just scare it away or something?" Sam suggested.

The look Al gave Sam summed it all up but he couldn't help vocalizing his thoughts as well. "What the hell kind of genius are you? Scare it away? You sure you were an Eagle Scout? Is that what they taught you? Scare it away? Maybe you hit your head harder than either of us thought. If you want to have a go at scaring it away be my guest but when you piss it off don't think you're sleeping in here tonight. You'll be sleeping as far away as I can get you."

Sam looked chagrined at Al's chastisement. "I guess you're right, he said sheepishly. I don't know why I thought scaring a skunk away would be a good idea. So what do we do?"

"What we do is sit here until Flower out there decides he's done exploring and we don't do anything to piss him off, that's what we do."

Sam cautiously crawled back over to the entrance peering out to see if their morning visitor was still outside. "You think he'll hang around long?"

"How the Hell would I know? I didn't happen to see a copy of his reservation for this quaint mountain inn so I don't know how long he's planning on hanging around for. You wanna go ask him?"

"Uh, no. I think I'll take a pass on that." Sam shifted a bit. "I sure hope he hurries. Finding a tree is the first order of business when he leaves."

"Just don't think about it."

"That's easy for you to say."

Al looked over at Sam pensively for a few seconds before saying in his most conversational tone, "When we get off the side of this mountain if you tell anyone we were trapped in this tent by that skunk out there I'll rip your other arm out of its socket." He finished off his statement with the evilest grin he could muster.

"No problem," Sam agreed knowing that Al could fulfill his threat. "No one's gonna hear about this one from me."

It took another ten minutes before the skunk trotted off towards a cluster of trees. As soon as it was safely out of sight, Sam made a beeline in the other direction. Al had to laugh as he watched the man sprint away through the snow to find a tree in the midst of a forest. When Sam returned a few minutes later, he was much more relaxed.

"Feel better?"

"Much," Sam said dropping to sit down on a fallen log not far from the fire.

"Good. I started the water to boil."

"So what are we having today?"

Al started to rummage through his pack pulling out different packages of the freeze-dried food. He'd read what most of them were and deposit it back in the pack as not worth for breakfast. "Hmmmm…how about scrambled eggs with peppers and bacon bits," he said reading the side of another freeze-dried package.

"Is that all we have? Freeze dried food?" The thought of freeze-dried anything just held no appeal to Sam.

"Well, we have some GORP."

"GORP?"

"Good Old Raisins and Peanuts."

"Oh. Trail Mix. Anything else?"

Al looked over to Sam exasperated. "Sam…we were going backpacking. That doesn't leave much room for a gourmet menu. Sorry but I don't have any Eggs Benedict to offer. Freeze-dried stuff hardly weighs anything. What did you want to bring? Tin cans or something?"

"We used to do that in Boy Scouts."

"Yeah…I hope you packed all that garbage back out with you. Leave no trace, take only pictures."

"You're a real environmental guy, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. I mean I know about the research on global warming and the loss of the ozone layer, things like that."

"Well, there's a lot that we should be doing everyday, too. Like recycling and energy conservation, and things like that."

"I'll tell you what. We get out of here and I'll make sure it's in the policies of the project to do those things."

"You're on, Sam." Al stopped for a second and then added, "Oh, and I've got a few other things too like granola bars, cheese, and crackers."

"I guess I'll just stick with the eggs. Right now I don't think it matters much what we have. I'm just not hungry."

While they'd been talking, the water had come to a boil. Al had brought a baggie with freeze-dried coffee and Sam had tea bags. They both were happy to get some hot liquids in them. The snow had covered the area, leaving the tops of the trees white and the overcast skies seemed a bit close to the ground.

Al looked up into the sky, "Weather's still socked in"

Sam also looked up to the sky. "Yeah. Do you think they'll send any rescue planes today?"

"I'm not sure. With the fog this thick, there's the risk of another accident, even if they use instruments. Once the skies clear, they should be able to locate us by our emergency transponder.

"I hope it clears up then."

"Me too."

Al finished adding the water to the eggs. A few minutes later, he served the food. Neither man had much of an appetite and they both mainly picked at the pile of fluffy yellow eggs in the middle of their plates. "We still have that cooler back in the plane. We can use some snow to ice things down and save these until tomorrow," Al suggested

"Left-over freeze dried eggs? Sounds delicious," Sam replied making a face.

"Well, it will make our supplies last a little longer. Just in case."

"What do you mean, just in case?" Sam asked warily. "I don't think I like the sound of that."

"You were the Boy Scout. Ever hear of 'be prepared'?"

"Yeah. I know. I guess you're right. I'm just hoping we'll be rescued before that will be necessary.

"I know, Kid. Still, better to be prepared for a worst case and not need it than to not be prepared.

"So, what do we do today? It doesn't sound very likely that S&R will be out looking for us yet."

"You had a good idea yesterday, picking up firewood. We can build a rather large signal fire. That's help the rescue planes to spot us once they're in the air. I also want to get a look at that engine. I just can't understand what could have gone wrong!"

"Okay. You look at the engine; I'll scout around for more firewood."

"Sounds like a plan, but the first thing we're gonna do is get you changed into something else."

"Why? What's wrong with what I'm wearing? Is there some kind of fashion code for plane crashes no one told me about?" Sam tried to joke. He'd noticed that Al had, as always, found a way to make his choice of attire unique for the situation. He was wearing a wool button down shirt in a plaid of purple and blue with shots of red and yellow. Underneath he had a silk turtleneck in red. His beige cargo pants were made of a high tech fabric. Somehow, the man was able to pull together his 'look' in the middle of the wilderness. Sam, on the other hand, had stuck with his usual choice of neutrals: plain blue denim button down shirt with an undershirt beneath it and dark wash jeans.

"No, there's no fashion code, wise ass. I just figured you'd be more comfortable if you had on warmer layers. That way if you start to get warm with your coat on you can take it off and still not freeze your butt off. That shirt you have on can't be warm enough."

"I guess I didn't think of that," Sam conceded. "Damn, everything keeps getting so muddled. I'm missing the most obvious stuff."

"Hey, hey, take it easy. It hasn't even been 24 hours yet since you were knocked out. This forgetting stuff or getting a little foggy's all part of the concussion right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm just not used to forgetting stuff, you know?" Sam said with a small smile

"Give it time and it'll pass. Now let's get you into something warmer and we can get started."

Because of damage to Sam's shoulder Al had to help him change from the button down shirt into the warmer wool sweater that was in his pack. Al had told him to leave on the polypropylene undershirt he suggested Sam get before they left. It would help keep him warm in addition to wicking any moisture away from his body. Getting the denim shirt off of him proved no problem but getting the sweater on was a whole other matter.

"No, no, stop it! It's not gonna work," Sam said panicked as soon as Al had raised his arm to put it in the sleeve.

Al quickly backed away from Sam thinking he'd hurt him. "I'm sorry, Sam. I was trying to be careful so it wouldn't hurt."

"No, that's not it," Sam said. He was gripping his shoulder with his right hand but the panic seemed to have died as soon as Al had dropped his arm down. "It felt like it was gonna pop back out as soon as you moved my arm. There must be a Bankart's lesion."

"Bankart's lesion?" Al asked. "What's that?"

"A shoulder dislocation can cause a detachment of the anteroinferior portion of the glenoid labrum and capsule," Sam started to explain but quickly simplified the explanation when he saw the confused look on Al's face. "The ligament that holds the shoulder in place can get detached."

"I take it that's bad."

"Well, it's actually…it's pretty normal and happens in a high percentage of cases."

"Okay, so what do we do about it?"

"Out here, nothing. If it's bad enough and doesn't heal on it's own it'll need to be surgically repaired."

"So then, what? We just wait for your shoulder to pop out again?"

"As long as it's not moved around too much that shouldn't be a problem. Of course, that just leaves the problem of getting this on," Sam said picking up the sweater in his lap.

"We'll figure something out," Al assured him.

It took a while and by the time the sweater was on Sam it was stretched out of shape but Al managed to get it on him without having to move his left arm too much. Once the sweater was on Al started to put the sling and elastic bandage back on.

"Hang on," Sam said stopping him again. "Let me get my coat on first then you can immobilize my arm. At least that way even if I can't use my left arm I can still sort of use that hand."

Al helped him into the coat and immobilized his arm once again.

Once his coat was on and his arm again immobilized, Sam had them both take some more Tylenol. He increased the dosage for Al when he continued to complain about the sinus headache. He was getting concerned that Al's shortness of breath was continuing even when he wasn't exerting himself and had the nagging feeling that he was missing something obvious.

Although he increased the amount of Tylenol he gave Al, he cut down on how much he took. Even though for his height and weight he wasn't anywhere near coming to the point of overdosing on it he knew if he cut down how much he took now he'd be able to stretch out how long he was able to take it without doing harm to himself. He had a feeling it might be a while before they saw any kind of rescue.

"The pain not so bad?" Al asked when he noticed that Sam had only taken three of the Tylenol this time.

"It's about the same but I need to start lowering how much I take at any one time so I can stretch it out. Taking too much acetaminophen's as good as taking poison. Besides, there's only so many in the bottle and I've got a feeling we might want to make it last as long as possible…just in case."

They wrapped up the uneaten breakfast in the package it had come in, using a rubber band to seal it then they headed back to the crash site.

When they got to the plane wreckage, Al pulled out the cooler from the cargo hold. It still had a few bottles of water and four beers in it. The ice that had been in it had melted and he poured it into a bucket. "We can use this for cleaning up."

"Sounds good," Sam agreed. "I'm gonna see what I can do about finding more wood for us to burn."

"Okay," Al agreed. "Just don't go far and stay in sight of the plane. I don't want to have to go searching through the woods looking for you."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine, Al."

Al stood and watched Sam walk off in search of more firewood before popping open the plane to look at the engine. It didn't take him long to find that some device had been used to cause an explosion in the engine block. He speculated that it had been set to go off when they hit a certain altitude. He sat down considering the ramification of this discovery.

Al didn't believe that anyone would try to kill him or even George. Neither of them was in the military any longer and retired officers were a dime a dozen. George had his own courier service business. There wasn't any advantage to killing him. Al was providing Contract Support and Technical Services to the project, in addition to being Sam's partner. He was up to date on his alimony payments, not that he'd believe any of his ex's would want him dead. They didn't hate him and he didn't hate them. He just couldn't stay married to any of them.

Sam was another story - the boy genius. There was some talk about his dissertation on the Predicted Creation of a Quantum Temporal Field during Particle Acceleration being worthy of a Nobel Prize. The man had seven degrees, his bachelor's in Physics and six doctorates including his MD. He spoke multiple languages. Only a man with the ability to see the patterns and connections between such disparate things as quantum physics and biologics based computer chips could have even conceived of Project Quantum Leap.

Was someone trying to keep Sam from succeeding? It just didn't make sense! Al hadn't told Sam, but the possibility of getting the funding for his project was, on the surface, pretty slim. The ace in the hole was that even though the committee thought that Sam was crazy, the man had the data to back it all up. His equations were solid. When Sam Beckett was sure of himself, Al had seen him move figurative mountains. However, if Sam weren't around, there wouldn't be a project.

He looked over to his friend traipsing around the mountainside, picking up pieces of wood he could carry. Boy genius. Wunderkind. All around nice guy. Who would have thought something like that would provide motivation to kill him.

Al coughed a dry cough. _"Great, now I'm coming down with a cold! What more could go wrong on this trip?"_

He quickly closed up the engine. He knew that Sam was good at mechanical things, having grown up on a working farm. He'd be able to spot the trouble right away. Al thought for a moment and then decided to tell Sam that the engine problem was probably caused by a fuel manifold spring problem. It was better then telling him that someone had caused this crash intentionally.

He went over to the emergency transponder and checked the battery. It was dead. Now Al knew for sure something was happening and it wasn't by chance. George would never allow the plane to fly without a charged battery. He so trusted George, he'd never thought to check it himself. Al kicked himself mentally. _"Damnit! I should have checked. God only knows how they'll find us now." _His upset started the coughing up again.

Al decided it was time to find a stream so they'd have a source of fresh water. He needed to get away for a bit and think in any case. He had to find a way to get them both out of this. He owed the kid that much. He called Sam over, smiling as he noticed the load of sticks in Sam's arm. He might be hampered by the use of only one arm but he was doing his damnedest to pull his weight.

"I'm gonna go see if I can find a stream for water," he explained as Sam got closer. "Hopefully it shouldn't take too long and I shouldn't have to go too far." When Sam finally stopped in front of him, he noticed how pale he looked and the dark smudges under his eyes. "Look, you've done good gathering all this wood. Why don't you get what you've collected over to the campsite and then lie down for a little while and get some rest."

"I'm okay, Al. I don't need to lie down and rest," Sam argued.

"You look like you're gonna fall over, not like you're okay," Al counter-argued. "Please, let's not argue about this. Just rest for a little while."

Sam took a deep breath and rubbed a hand across his face. "Okay," he agreed. "Just for a little while, though. I've got to pull my weight here just as much as you do. You don't have to take care of me."

"You're right, I don't and I'd rather keep it that way, too. Now go on."

Al waited to make sure Sam was on his way back to the campsite carrying the load of wood before he took the two empty nalgene bottles along with the other empty ones he had brought for when they set up camp and put them into a daypack. Spying a high rock and deciding it might give him a good view of the area he hiked over the boulder strewn field to it, breathing heavily and coughing every few feet. When he got to the rock, he climbed up to look around and spotted a small meadow in the distance. Getting down from the rock, he headed out towards it.

When he arrived, he noted that the meadow was rocky as well and found the creek he'd expected close to some red willow bushes and used the pump to fill the bottles. At least they'd have enough clean water to hydrate themselves. While pumping the water, Al started feeling a bit light headed but waved it off and finished filling the bottles. Once done, he set his sights for the campsite, finding himself coughing most of the way back.

When he arrived back at his destination, he found Sam separating the different size wood into tinder, kindling, and logs. He hoped Sam had done as he'd asked and taken some time to rest. He still looked wiped out but he couldn't fault the kid's enthusiasm. He'd collected a fair amount of fuel and they'd be able to build a good-sized signal fire. Al dropped the daypack and sat down, leaning back against a rock for a few moments. When he started coughing again, Sam looked at him concerned.

"How long have you had that cough?" Sam asked coming over to squat down next to Al and pressing his hand to his forehead.

"Oh, it started earlier today," Al answered brushing Sam's hand away. "It's probably just post nasal drip from the sinuses." The cough had progressed from a dry cough to a wet one. Al continued coughing, finding it hard to catch his breath. He covered his mouth and when he pulled it away, found the sputum was pink and frothy. He tried to hide it from Sam, but couldn't.

Seeing the sputum, Sam went into his analysis mode. Al had seen it numerous times. It was as if Sam was pulling in all the available, pertinent data and using it to figure something out. Al could have sworn if he looked hard enough he could see the gears turning in the younger man's head. Finally, Sam spoke. "Al, this is serious. I think you've got all the symptoms of high altitude pulmonary edema."

"It's nothing."

"Nothing, Hell." Sam grabbed for Al's wrist feeling for his pulse.

"I told you, Sam, it's nothing," Al repeated trying to pull his wrist from Sam's grasp.

"Shut up and let me do my job," Sam growled.

"Anyone ever told you your bedside manner sucks?"

Ignoring Al's comment, Sam continued, "Your pulse is racing and you're breathing like you just finished a marathon. This is serious, Al. This could kill you." The younger man stood up and started pacing, a sure sign he was upset. "I should have recognized it. Sinus type headache, sleeplessness, cough, shortness of breath. Damn, Damn, Damn!"

"You didn't know."

Sam stopped his pacing round on Al. "I'm a doctor. I should have seen it."

"You've got a concussion," Al pointed out from his place on the ground

"Doesn't excuse missing this!" Sam resumed his frantic pacing again and Al started to wish he'd stop. Watching the constant back and forth was making him tired.

"So Doctor? What do I need to do? Drink extra water or something like that?"

"No, Al," Sam said stopping his pacing to squat in front of Al a look of apprehension on his face. "We've got to get you to a lower altitude as soon as possible."

"We can't leave the plane."

"We don't have any choice," Sam said pushing to his feet and resuming his agitated pacing.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. If we stay up here it's only going to get worse." Sam again stood still looking down to where Al was sitting. "Don't you get it?" he asked softy. "You could die."

Al sighed. "Okay, Sam. If you're sure. I still think this is a bad idea. First rule in survival is stay put."

"I know that but in this case, if we stay put they might find me, but it could be too late for you. I'm not willing to chance that – not if I can do something about it."

It was already getting late in the afternoon and when Al pointed out it would be foolhardy to attempt to leave now Sam agreed. Heading down a mountain in snow in the dark when you didn't know where you were going was probably not the best idea. They'd wait until first light the next morning and then set out.

In the meantime, Sam insisted that Al rest. Al suggested that making the site as visible as possible might allow the rescuers to find where they crashed. They could leave a note indicating their direction and reason for leaving and then hope for the best.

As neither man was very hungry, they decided the morning's eggs would suffice for dinner. That way they could conserve their food a little while longer since it looked like that worst case scenario had decided to bite them in the butt after all. They heated the eggs up in one of the small aluminum metal pots that Al had packed. The tiny MSR camp stove did its job well.

When they'd finished eating, Sam again offered to clean up the remains of their dinner and headed a ways from the campsite. He remained in sight of it and Al was able to see him kneel down but soon suspected he was doing more than just cleaning up if the rhythmic movement of his shoulders were any kind of clue. Great, whatever little bit the kid had eaten for dinner was now splattered on the ground and Al had a feeling Sam wouldn't be confessing that anytime soon. Before he could get any further in his thoughts, he was claimed by another racking cough.

"Great, he muttered once he caught his breath. "It's as bad as the blind leading the blind. We'll be lucky to get one mile from here still alive forget getting off this mountain."

When he saw that Sam was almost back to the campsite Al pasted a falsely positive smile on his face. He wouldn't tell Sam that he'd seen him vomiting in the bushes but he also wasn't going to confess to the coughing fit he'd just had. He'd give Sam as much hope, even if it were false, as he possibly could. Who knows, maybe hope would get them off the mountain alive.

0000000

Sam eagerly volunteered to take the remains of their dinner away from the campsite not only so that Al could continue to rest but also because he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep what he'd eaten down for very long. As soon as he was far enough away that Al shouldn't be able to tell what he was doing, he dropped to his knees emptying his stomach of its meager contents. It was one thing to know intellectually what he was feeling and experiencing were expected symptoms of his injuries. It was quite another thing to be on the end of experiencing them.

He'd neglected to tell Al about the continuing nagging ache in his lower back and side. Not only that, but he'd been passing blood in his urine as well and strongly suspected a bruised kidney to be the culprit. It would also explain why he was still feeling so nauseated and still vomiting. He suspected that the injury and resulting bleeding were minor. If it weren't, by now he would have lost too much blood to be able to function. He had debated confessing the additional injury to Al but had quickly discarded that idea as soon as he realized what was wrong with Al. There was enough to worry about without adding anything else. Sam figured he'd be able to pass off any symptoms from his kidney as being somehow connected to the concussion and Al would be none the wiser for it. He just hoped that a rescue party would find them soon. He wasn't sure how long either of them would be able to go on without some kind of medical help.

Once he'd finished cleaning the dishes from dinner he pushed back to a standing position, closing his eyes momentarily until the dizzy feeling passed. He longed to reach around and rub at the area of his back that was sore but with his one good hand full that was impossible.

He pasted a falsely cheerful smile on his face, unaware that Al was doing the same thing, and headed back to the campsite.

Once he's returned the dishes to Al's pack, he asked him if there was any paper.

"Planning on writing your memoirs?" Al asked.

"No. I thought I'd get to work on that note we're gonna leave so that when a rescue party finds the wreckage from the plane they'll know where we've gone and why."

"Oh, yeah," Al said pushing up from the ground. "Let's head back over to the plane again and see what we can find in there. There's got to be something we can use to write on."

When they got back to the plane Sam remembered the notebook he'd been writing in while up in the air and found it on the floor near his seat. Grabbing it, he used the pen that was still attached to it and started to write the note.

"You got any idea which way we should go? He asked.

Al looked around thinking about which direction would be best for them to take. "Well, since we don't have any real idea of exactly where we are it would probably be best to follow the stream I found earlier downhill."

"Sounds as good as anything else," Sam agreed. "At least then we won't have to go far for a source of water."

Once Sam had written out the note explaining what had transpired and indicating that they were both in need of medical attention, Al used a waterproof baggie to seal the note in and left it on the pilot's seat.

Once that was taken care of, Al suggested that since they had the four beers, they might as well drink them. Sam shook his head. "Bad idea, Al. For a couple of reasons."

"Like?"

"Well, first off, both of us have been taking quite of bit of acetaminophen. Alcohol in combination could be toxic to the liver."

"Oh."

"Second, you've got HAPE, and alcohol would make it worse." He finished with, "it's not exactly recommended for a concussion either."

"Good reasons, Sam. Still, I hate to see them go to waste."

"I thought you might agree and better they go to waste then they become a last meal for either of us," Sam said. He pulled the two bottles of water out. "Might as well drink these before we leave, though."

Al nodded and took the flares off the seat. "We should take these with us. They won't help us much if we leave them here now." He continued looking through the plane and found a roll of bright orange plastic flagging tape under the pilot's seat. "This'll help us for sure."

"What is it?" Sam asked taking the roll from Al's hand to examine it.

"It's flagging tape to tie on trees and whatnot…we can use some of it to make the campsite more visible and we can use the rest to mark the trail we take."

They continued to look through the plane but found nothing else that would help them. They secured the area again and headed back to the tent. Once there, Al started pulling things out of the backpacks in the tent. Sam watched for a moment then asked, "What are you doing?"

The exertion of unpacking the two packs brought on another coughing jag from Al. Sam was concerned but Al waved him off. "It's okay. I know we've got to get down from here Sam. I'm just making sure we have what we need and I'm going to have to lighten the load in your pack."

"Why?"

"It's too heavy. You must be carrying 60 pounds of stuff in here. With that dislocated shoulder you won't be able to carry as much."

"Well, you certainly can't take on more with the edema."

"My pack's a lot lighter than yours, Sam," Al pointed out still pulling out the contents of the packs and laying it out to sort through. "I packed light to begin with. I think we'll be able to balance the loads out a bit but I'm pretty sure we're going to have to leave some of your stuff here."

"Why my stuff? Why not your stuff?"

"Cause I only packed things we'll need and your stuff is too heavy. Haven't you been listening?" Al was starting to feel like he was repeating the same thing over and over. He understood that the concussion could still be leaving Sam a little confused and fuzzy but his patience would only stretch so far.

"You don't have to get snippy about it, Al," Sam said hurt. "I was just asking."

Al sighed. "I know, Kid. I'm just frustrated. I pulled you out here kicking and screaming and look what a mess it's turned out to be."

Sam looked down to the items that Al had laid out and picked up the roll of flagging tape and started rolling it back and forth under his hand. "I could have said no."

Al looked up from what he was pulling out of Sam's pack. "You did say 'no', remember. I'm the one who talked you into this. If I'd just listened to you, you'd be safe at home right now but no. I had to push until you agreed to come and you trusted me."

Sam tossed the roll of flagging back in the middle with everything else. "I still trust you," he earnestly stated looking over to Al. "We'll get out of this somehow."

Al turned back to the items laid out in the tent. He put the freeze-dried items, the GORP, and the granola bars into the packs. He held out the crackers and cheese. "Breakfast tomorrow..." He pulled out the bulky cotton sweater Sam had in his pack. "We'll have to leave this behind."

"Hey, that's one of my favorites," Sam said trying to snatch the sweater away from Al.

"Yeah…and if it gets wet it's heavy and useless. Better to stick with the wool," Al said with a note of finality before putting the sweater in the "discard" pile.

"Okay but when we get down from here you owe me a sweater."

"You're on." Al got a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'm seeing something nice and bright. Something that'd really attract the ladies."

"Aa-ll"

Al looked at Sam, innocence on his face. "What? You don't think you could use a little help with the fairer sex?" Sam's face indicated that he didn't appreciate the comment one bit. Al shrugged and continued to sort through the various items. Every so often he'd cough, a few times taking a little longer to catch his breath. Sam continued to give him a worried look. "You need to rest."

"I'll rest once we get things ready to go. If we're going to head out at first light, I want to get as much taken care of tonight as possible."

"Why don't you tell me what you need done. That way, you won't exert yourself too much."

Al was about to decline but then realized that what Sam said made sense. He knew that the kid would blame himself if anything happened to him - not that he had caused any of this to happen. He just had a hyper-responsible nature. He'd seen Sam take on problems he didn't have to. It was like he had a need to help people out, make things right.

Al directed Sam as to what needed to be packed, who's pack to put it in, and where in the packs to put the items. Sam was careful to follow Al's instructions, not even complaining when Al again tossed some of the items he had brought with him out until it came to the book that had been in the bottom of his pack.

"Sam, it's no good to us and it's gonna weigh you down. It has to stay behind. I'm not even sure why you brought a book with you anyway," Al argued.

Sam looked down at the volume in his lap running his hand carefully over the spine. It was a hard-covered copy of Jack London's _Call of the Wild_ and looked like it had seen better days. "No way, Al, this comes with me. I'm not leaving it behind."

"Sam that thing's gonna do us no earthly good except maybe we could use it as kindling but there's enough of that out there without lugging that with us. We need to get the weight of your pack down, not add to it. The book stays behind, no more arguments." Al raised his voice until he was nearly shouting at Sam. He'd reached the end of his patience. He felt like hell and didn't understand Sam's insistence on bringing the book with him. It hadn't been his intention to yell, it had just happened.

Sam was taken aback by the anger in Al's voice. Dropping the book down next to him, he bolted out of the tent yelling out "You don't understand!"

"Sam!" Al called out after him before doubling over in another coughing fit. Once he'd brought it under control, he caught sight of the book that had opened up to reveal an old-fashioned, flowing, inked script when Sam had dropped it. "Aw, damn," Al whispered catching sight of the short inscription ending with the words "Love, Daddy". He cursed again when he saw that Sam had gone running out of the tent without bothering to put his coat back on. He grabbed it, and exited the tent to see where the upset younger man had gone off to.

Sam hadn't made it far from the entrance of the tent Al was relieved to see. He was huddled at the base of a tree just a few yards away. Al stood just outside the tent for a couple of minutes just watching Sam who didn't seem to be aware of anyone watching him. Finally, he went over to the younger man. Crouching down next to him, he wrapped the coat around his shoulders.

"You trying for hypothermia, now?" Al quietly asked waiting a beat for an answer. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Sam," he continued when he got no response from the silent form. "I know the book means a lot to you…"

"My Dad gave it to me," Sam whispered.

"I saw," Al said running a comforting hand up and down Sam's back.

"He gave it to me the first time I went camping with Tom," Sam continued as if Al hadn't said anything. Al kept his silence sensing a need in Sam to talk. "He thought that it would keep me occupied so that I wouldn't drive Tom crazy asking questions all the time. I did that a lot when Dad and I were in the Indian Guides together. He could be pretty patient with me but sometimes Tom's patience would run out. It worked. Tom sat me down on this fallen log with it while he set up the tent and I only asked him a couple of questions instead of a dozen. I've taken it with me every time I've gone camping since then. It's sort of a tradition. It's been a while since the last time I read it but having it with me…it's like…it's like having my Dad with me." Sam finally turned to face Al shrugging his good shoulder. "I know, it's pretty stupid."

"There's nothing stupid about your feelings, Sam." At that particular instant a rather strong gust of wind blew. "C'mon, let's get back in the tent and out of this wind. We're going to be out in it enough tomorrow as it is."

Al helped Sam up from the ground and kept a hand on his arm as they walked back over to the tent offering what comfort he could.

Once back in the tent Sam again picked up the book keeping it opened on his lap. He looked down at the handwritten inscription but Al had a good idea that wasn't what he was seeing even if his finger did keep tracing over the letters in the word 'daddy'. "I wasn't there when he needed me, Al. I wasn't there when he died and I didn't get home in time for his funeral. I feel like if I leave this behind I'm somehow failing him again."

Al gently pulled the book from Sam's lap and forced him to look up at him. "Sam, I never knew your father but I know his son. I know the man he raised his son to be. That tells me that he'd want you to do whatever is necessary to survive and get down off this mountain – even if that means leaving the book behind. You're not failing him by leaving it, Sam. If you don't do everything you can to come out of this alive - that's when you'd be failing him." Al noted that Sam was nodding but sensed he was still uneasy. He continued, "You're not leaving him behind either. Not as long as you carry him here and here." Al gently laid his hand over first Sam's heart and then his forehead. It registered in the back of his mind that Sam felt warmer than he probably should have but he shrugged it off as just being one more symptom of everything else that had gone wrong.

Sam didn't say anything. He just kept looking at the book, struggling with the decision he knew he'd have to make.

Al reached over and took the book from his lap, noting that Sam reluctantly allowed him to do so. "I tell you what we're gonna do. We're gonna take this and make sure it's sealed up in a waterproof bag and we'll leave it with the plane and afterwards we'll find a way to come back for it. Okay?"

Nodding with the finality of a decision made, Sam answered, "Yeah, okay. Just in case, though, I want that first page with his handwriting."

"That's not a problem. I'll just cut that page out," Al said as he pulled out his Swiss Army knife and did just that. As he cut it carefully, he noted that the book was not printed on cheap pulp paper, but rather was printed on higher quality linen. He knew then that the gift had indeed held significance beyond just a story a typical eight year old would read. This book would have cost quite a bit even in the early sixties and Al knew that Sam's family had not been rich, at least not financially. "There you go," he said handing the page over to Sam.

"Thank you," Sam softly said as he took the page reverently from Al. He attempted to fold it up one-handed but wasn't very successful doing it.

"Here, let me help," Al said taking the page back from Sam. He carefully folded it so the crease marks wouldn't interfere with the written note. The quality of the paper meant it wouldn't become brittle in the near future, but someday, it might and Al didn't want to hurt Sam anymore than this concession already was hurting him, even if that hurt would be delayed many years.

Sam took the carefully folded page back and slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat for safekeeping.

More subdued than they'd been before, they turned back to the task of sorting through the contents of the packs. Al remained adamant that the weight of Sam's had to be greatly reduced. When they were finished, both packs were balanced at about 35 pounds each. With the tent and other equipment that would be packed up the following morning that meant closer to 45 pounds each - a little more for Al and quite a bit less for Sam. Sam had tried to argue he should take on more weight but Al nipped that argument in the bud. If Sam re-injured his shoulder, they might have to lose even more weight and Al was cutting down to bare bones as it was.

Resting seemed to slow the progression of the HAPE a bit. They spent the rest of the daylight preparing the campsite to leave in the morning. Al looked over to the quite sizable pile of wood that Sam had collected and thought of the irony that they would have to leave it behind.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Long after they both should have been asleep, they were both still staring up at the roof of the tent.

Sam finally broke the silence. "Thanks for understanding, Al," he whispered.

"Nothing to understand," Al quietly responded back knowing immediately what Sam was talking about. "It means a lot to you." Al would have quieted him and encouraged him to sleep but unless he let Sam talk about whatever it was he needed to talk about, it would nag at him keeping him awake. "It's more than just the book, though, isn't it?"

At first silence greeted Al's prompt and he began to think that Sam had finally drifted off to sleep. Finally, the soft voice came across in the semi light caused by the moonlight through the tent.

"Yeah, I guess so. Mom had this old rocking chair in their bedroom. It had been her mother's and her mother's before that – it sort of got passed down. I suppose someday it'll be Katie's. Anyway, anytime any one of us had a bad dream or were sick or something, Mom would rock us in the chair and sing to us. Dad wasn't much for singing, though. He'd rock us and read instead. He'd always read me _The Call of the Wild_. He had this old, beat-up paper back copy. The pages were practically falling out of it but it was **our** book. I don't know what he read to Tom or Katie, but _The Call of the Wild_ was just for me. As long as Dad read it to me then it meant everything would be okay and I was safe."

"You still miss him." Al stated softly when Sam paused to gather his thoughts.

"Yeah, I still do. I feel like I never got to say goodbye to him. He died so suddenly there was no way I could get back from Cambridge in time. You know where I was the day of his funeral?" He didn't give Al a chance to answer but pushed on ahead. Al could hear the bitterness in Sam's voice as he continued, "I couldn't afford the flight from Boston and had to take the bus. Instead of being at his funeral, I was in a bus station in some rinky-dink town outside of Pittsburgh because the bus I was on had broken down and we had to wait for a replacement. By the time I finally got home I was two hours late and it was all over." Sam paused again. Al was about to say something when Sam took in another breath and continued.

"Katie was fit to be tied. She wouldn't talk to me for over six months unless it would be rude not to. By the time she was willing to forgive me, she'd married her first husband and left home. Mom didn't really say anything, but I know it hurt her that I wasn't there. Things weren't okay between us for a while. First I didn't go home for Thanksgiving the year before Dad died because school was more important and I thought I'd have time. Then time ran out and I didn't make his funeral." With self-loathing, Sam finished, "Some son I am."

Al sighed into the darkness. He didn't know what he could do or say to take this hurt away from Sam. It was an old hurt and the one person who could give him absolution so he could finally forgive himself was the one person who couldn't. Unfortunately the sigh triggered another cough.

"Oh, God, Al, you should be resting, not listening to me. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, Sam." Al had a feeling he'd be saying those words a lot. "We should both try to get some sleep. You're not a hundred percent there yourself. Try to sleep now and maybe things will look different in the morning." He knew the words were hollow – how could things look different in the morning unless they were going to be magically transported from this place while they slept. He honestly didn't know what else to say, though.

The rest of the night was spent in restless sleep for both of them, Al coughing occasionally and Sam listening and hoping that the next morning would be soon enough to get to a lower altitude for his pal.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The next morning, the two men broke camp quickly. They worked together to get the equipment back into their stuff sacks and strapped them to the packs. Eating the cheese and crackers and washing it down with the water from the plane meant they didn't have to cook or clean up, so they were able to pack up the rest of the gear in record time. They headed out towards the meadow where Al had retrieved the water, another commodity that was being left behind. At least they wouldn't have trouble finding more of it along the way.

Sam insisted that his arm only needed to be in the sling and not completely immobilized to his body with the elastic bandage. Al had at first been leery of not providing as much protection and stability to Sam's injured arm as possible but Sam argued that the extra freedom would help him to more easily keep his balance and allow him greater use of his left hand. Even without the added immobilization that the elastic bandage provided, the pain would be enough to discourage him from moving the shoulder any more than necessary.

Initially, Sam was consistently tying a bit of the flagging tape every 50 feet along the path. While this had made sense to Al when going across to the meadow, once they were along the stream he felt it was a waste of resources. "Sam, at this rate you could run out of that stuff."

"But Al, how else are we going to let the rescuers know where we are?"

"I think they'd follow the stream down once we indicated we're following it."

"What if they don't? Weren't you the one who wanted me to be prepared?"

Al had to smile as Sam turned his own words against him. "Okay. Point taken. How about you just use the flagging tape when there's a change in direction and then use rock cairns to indicate we're still on the same track."

"Rock cairns? You mean those piles of rocks? They still do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I remember them teaching that to us in the scouts. I figured things had changed."

"That's one of those things that will never change."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Flagging tape for changes of direction and rock cairns otherwise."

They continued down the mountain, stopping every so often to rest and drink some water. The stream was littered with fallen branches and boulders and they often scooted on their butts when the inclines were a bit steep. Sam was glad that Al had him bring waterproof pants to wear over his jeans otherwise scooting over the snowmelt would have had him soaked.

They had continued to follow the stream the entire day. Sam noticed that Al's breathing seemed to be getting better and the coughing was greatly reduced the lower they got which set his mind at some ease. His own headache continued but it wasn't as bad. Unfortunately, the pain in his back hadn't gotten any better.

When they noticed that they only had about three hours of sunlight left, they started looking for a place to set up the tent. There wasn't a place as flat as they'd had close to the crash site but Al was able to find a decent area covered with pine needles. It was under a thick canopy of trees and was fairly dark, even in the daylight. He set up the tent with their head up hill.

Watching Sam doing his part to get the camp set up, Al noticed that he looked drained and somewhat feverish and was moving slower than was normal. He was feeling much better himself and it bothered him that Sam seemed to be going the other direction. "Your head's not getting any better?" he asked. "I thought concussions were supposed to resolve themselves pretty well. It's been over 48 hours since you hit your head and you don't seem much better."

Sam stopped what he was doing looking over to Al and fidgeting. "Ummm, yeah. Well, sometimes it can take a little longer." It was hard for Sam to lie about anything and Al had developed his bullshit meter significantly while in the Navy.

"Sa-am! You're not telling me something. Spill it."

"No, really, Al. It's nothing." The look on Sam's face was in complete contrast to his words. He looked, to Al, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"I'm not buying it, Beckett. There's something you're not telling me and I want to hear what it is, pronto!"

"Uh…" Sam sighed and stood up from where he'd been kneeling down. He knew that Al wouldn't let it go until he told him. "Okay. I think I might have a slightly bruised kidney," he confessed though he couldn't meet Al's eyes.

"Slightly bruised? Is this like that 'mild' concussion you had that turned into a grade three?"

"No. I really think it is only slightly bruised," Sam hastened to reassure. "If it were worse, internal bleeding would probably have killed me by now. The fact that I'm alive and functioning is really a good sign." He figured that putting a positive slant on the news might relieve some of Al's concern.

Al reached over and felt Sam's forehead. "You've got a fever! Damn it, Sam! I told you I needed to know what's happening with you and you decide to hide this from me? What the hell were you thinking?"

Sam's own sense of indignation went into full swing as he heard Al's anger rising. "What about you? You tried to hide the HAPE from me! God, Al, I know that I haven't been thinking real well the last couple of days but I almost missed that. How do you think I would have felt if I missed the diagnosis and you died?!" He started walking away, whispering under his breath, "I've already lost Tom and Dad! I couldn't stand losing you too."

"What was that last?" Al asked not completely sure he'd heard correctly.

"Nothing, Al," Sam growled back. "Just leave me alone. I'll be okay."

Al watched him stomp over to a boulder field. Sam sat down on one of the larger ones, his back to Al. Al had seen him get this way a few times while on StarBright, and knew he was upset. When Sam felt he was about to lose it, he'd pull away from everyone and go someplace to think. Al knew from past experience if he gave him his space, eventually Sam would come back. He didn't think today would be any different. It had been a tough three days for both of them. He decided to finish getting things set up and let Sam have the space he seemed to desire.

0000000

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Sam berated himself sitting on the boulder. All he had to do was just shut his mouth about the bruised kidney but he couldn't do something that simple. No. He had to spill his guts and just pile one more worry onto the load Al was already carrying. The fact that he knew he Al could see through him like cellophane didn't make his confession any easier.

Not that Al really had any right to get mad at him for not telling him right away. If he hadn't figured out what was wrong with Al, if he hadn't finally forced the symptoms to add up in his head, they'd still be at their first campsite and Al could very well be dead right now. It was unlikely that Al, who had gone camping in this area before, could not know what altitude sickness and HAPE were. "Was he hoping I'd still be so addled I wouldn't notice when he dropped dead?" Sam asked aloud.

Damn it all, it just wasn't fair. He'd lost too many people already. He wasn't going to let Al be the next one. Not as long he was still alive.

He turned around on the boulder he was sitting on and looked back to the campsite. Al bustling around it finishing setting it up and Sam sighed at the sight. He was supposed to make sure Al was resting, not doing more work than necessary. "Can't even do that right," he murmured getting up from the boulder. Instead of putting in his fair share of the work, he'd gone off to pout leaving Al to do all the work.

He started to walk back across to the campsite to force Al to rest when he stopped suddenly and clamped his eyes shut. He hadn't felt the whirl of dizziness all day but it looked like it was coming back for a visit. Pressing his lips together and dropping his head down, he braced himself until it passed. It didn't seem to lessen this time, though, and seemed to worsen in its intensity. His body began to quickly alternate between being chilled and soaked with sweat and he dropped suddenly to his knees and then listed all the way over to his side to lie in ball on the ground. He prayed that the feeling of vertigo would lose its hold on him but this time it didn't seem to want to release its prey.

0000000

As Al finished setting up the campsite, he kept stealing surreptitious glances over to where Sam was sitting. He was surprised when he saw him get up and start walking back to the campsite. Usually Sam needed more time than this when he wanted to be by himself. His surprise turned to concern when Sam stopped and seemed to sway in place before crumpling to his knees. By the time Al reached him, he was curled up in a ball.

"Sam? What's wrong, Buddy?" he asked laying a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam might have said minor but minor wasn't gonna have him huddled on the ground like he was.

Sam didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was low enough that Al had to lean over him to hear. "Dizzy."

"Okay. Just stay still 'til it passes." It was the only thing he could think of to say – hell, it was the only thing he could think of to do. He pushed the sweat-soaked hair back from Sam's forehead again noticing the pallor of his skin and the too-warm feel. There was no way this was just "minor" no matter what Sam had said.

After another minute, the dizzy spell seemed to pass and Sam tried to push himself up from the ground. Al put an arm around his shoulders helping him. "Just take it easy," Al cautioned him. "Don't move around fast."

Sam shook his head slightly afraid to awaken a fresh case of the vertigo.

Al let him sit for another few minutes in silence giving him time to get his bearings and when Sam attempted to stand up kept the arm around him to help. Once Sam was vertical again, Al kept one hand on him gripping his right shoulder and moved in front of him grabbing his left elbow with the other hand. He took care when he did so not to move the arm. "Okay, Sam, what's going on here?"

"I just got dizzy, that's all but it's passed now. I told you it could happen from time to time."

"Yeah, and from what I know about concussions it should be getting better by now – not worse and this is the worst you've been yet. You're still holding something back and I want to know what it is." He stopped for a second and then asked, "This dizziness have anything to do with that kidney of yours?"

"I swear, Al, I'm not holding anything back. It is likely that the kidney could cause the dizziness but it's probably just a combination of everything – the bruised kidney, concussion, not eating enough. It's really not as bad as it seems." Sam looked hard into Al's eyes trying to communicate his honesty before rubbing his hand across his face. "I'm so tired."

Sam's admission of fatigue galvanized Al into action. "Let's get back to camp so you can lie down and then you're going to tell me everything that's going on with you, everything I should expect, and exactly what we can do to help you."

He kept a hand on Sam's good arm lending support as they walked back to the campsite. He pushed Sam into the tent sitting him down on his sleeping bag and pulled the coat from him before urging him to lay down with the bunched up coat under his head for a pillow.

"Okay, now spill it."

"There's nothing to spill, Al. I've told you everything."

"Not quite. How long have you known about having a bruised kidney?"

Sam took a deep breath before answering. "My back's been bothering me from the start but I just thought it was a pulled muscle or something." Sam pushed back to a seated position. Lying down he didn't feel like he was on even footing with Al. "We did just fall out of the sky so I didn't think that was too much of a stretch. You're not gonna tell me you don't have some bumps and bruises of your own you haven't said anything about."

"This isn't about me," Al said waving off Sam's probing question. "This is about you. So just when did you start figuring out it wasn't just a pulled muscle?"

"Yesterday…when I started passing blood."

"Yesterday?" Al asked deceptively calm. "You started passing blood yesterday and didn't think that might be something you should share? You thought that was something you should keep a big secret? Or did you think that maybe if you ignored it, it would just go away?"

"I was going to tell you," Sam argued, trying to defend himself.

"Really? When were you going to tell me? After you bled to death? Maybe just before so I'd know what to put on your tombstone."

"Yeah, well I could say the same about you," Sam responded as some of his previous anger resurfaced.

"I told you," Al said trying to reign in his temper again. "This isn't about me, right now. This is about you. Now when were you planning on telling me?"

Sam took a deep breath and let it out, shoulders slumping. "When you came back with the water. I was going to tell you then but then I figured out you had HAPE. I knew the last thing you needed was any more stress because that would just make it all worse and if it got worse then maybe getting you down to a lower altitude wouldn't help and there was nothing I could do to help you out here and…and…"

"It's okay, Sam," Al said quieting the torrent of words from the younger man. "I get it and although I understand why, I'm not happy you kept it from me but there's nothing we can do about it now. We can't go back and change things – we've just got to move on from here. So tell me what I need to know to help you."

"There's not much you really can do."

"Sam." It was a warning that Al would brook no more.

"There isn't. I'm not lying to you." Under other circumstances, the near whine in Sam's voice would have been more amusing. Under their present circumstances, Al knew that it was just a symptom of Sam's frustration with everything.

"Okay, let's try this a different way. What would happen if we weren't on this mountain and you were in a hospital? What would they do?"

"Not much, really."

Al greeted that assessment with a skeptical look.

"Okay, okay, provided it wasn't severe enough to warrant surgery – which this isn't, trust me - bed rest until the bleeding stopped or lessened, something for pain, and observation to make sure nothing gets worse. Aside from some Tylenol, none of those are really options we have."

"On the contrary," Al said pushing Sam once again to lie back down. "You can get rest." He pressed his hand to Sam's forehead once again. "Considering you're starting to run a fever, that's probably a good thing for you right now."

"You need to get down to lower altitude, Al," Sam argued from where he lay.

"In case you missed it, Doc, I've been doing a whole lot better today. I've hardly been coughing, it's a lot easier to breathe and the headache's just about gone. I think we can handle a day or so here if necessary to give you a chance to rest. You said yesterday you wouldn't take a chance with my life well, it goes both ways, Sam. I'm not taking a chance with yours."

Sam studied Al's face, his eyes squinting as he thought. "Who was it, Al?" he finally asked.

"Who was who?"

"Who did you lose?"

"I told you, Kid, this isn't about me right now, it's about you."

"That's not fair, Al. I've told you about my past but you hardly ever tell me anything about yours."

Al tried for glibness. "That's because there's nothing much to tell."

"I'm not buying it."

Al blew out a breath. "Okay, you're right, there was someone but we're not going to talk about that right now. Right now I want you to rest and I'm gonna see about getting us some dinner."

Sam tried to stifle a yawn but was unsuccessful. "Okay, but you're gonna tell me later."

"Yeah, Kid, I'll tell you later."

Sam seemed to accept this and nodded. Al waited until Sam's eyes finally closed and his body relaxed into sleep before leaving the tent. "Next time we're goin' to Disneyland," he muttered.

He'd mostly finished getting their campsite ready before he'd gone running off after Sam. All that was really needed was some wood for a fire and some water and both of those could be had around them in abundance.

0000000

Sam slept a lot longer than Al expected. He questioned whether to wake him up, but with crackers and cheese for breakfast and granola bars for lunch, Al figured he really needed to get something into Sam, preferably something warm. He crawled into the tent to wake him up.

He stopped for a moment, watching Sam sleep in the dying light of the day. He looked peaceful and unstressed. He suddenly realized that Sam had a point. Watching him now brought back to mind the many times he'd seen his sister sleeping this same way.

Trudy had been what people who were kind called a special child. Those who weren't kind called her a moron or a dummy. Al knew his sister had had Down Syndrome. However, what she didn't have in smarts, she more than made up with love. Trudy was a delight. She unconditionally loved everyone, trusting them all. Al had always felt he had failed her by not getting her out of the institution where she had been placed in time.

As he gazed at Sam, he realized that while this man was on the opposite end of the spectrum IQ wise, he had faced many of the same challenges his sister had. He felt a sudden kinship with Sam's brother in that he was the one who made sure that if anyone did anything that he thought would hurt Trudy; he was there to make sure it didn't happen again. Where Tom had helped Sam learn to fit in, he'd never been able to do that for Trudy.

It was more than just the similar challenges that both Sam and Trudy had faced where Al saw the similarities between the two. Trudy always had such an open trust. It never occurred to her to look for the bad in people. Sam also had that same tendency – to look for the good first – and often times it would come back to hurt him. They both shared an innocence that alternately frightened Al and left him in awe. That wasn't to say that Sam was naïve about the workings of the world. He was well aware of the bad that existed but somehow, when he came face to face with it, it always seemed to take the kid by surprise and sadden him. Sam would always try to find a way to fix what was bad and leave things in better shape.

"Aw, Sam. I really should have listened to you this time," he whispered quietly, not yet wanting to wake his sleeping friend. "You said before we left that something was bothering you about the trip. I thought it was just you being afraid to fly. I guess your gut gives you some pretty good guidance sometimes." It surprised him to see Sam's eyes start to flutter open.

"What?" Sam blinked a few times, trying to get reoriented. "Did you say something, Al?"

"Uhh…I said that dinner was about ready," Al responded in a louder voice.

"I'm not really very hungry."

"Doesn't matter. If you don't eat something that stays down soon, we're gonna have bigger problems on this trip and you know it."

"I know, Al. You're right," Sam said accepting the truth in Al's words. He noticed his lips were dry. "Can you hand me that bottle of water?"

Al noticed the nalgene bottle in the vestibule. "Sure." He handed it over to Sam and watched him drink deeply. At least he was hydrating.

After getting Sam back into his coat, they headed out to the where Al had left the beef stew. Freeze dried food might not be as good as fresh, but the meals were generally substantial and really tasty. He dished up a bit for Sam and handed it to him before starting in on his own. He was surprised when Sam actually finished what he had on his plate and asked if there was anymore.

"I guess that rest must have really helped."

Sam nodded. "I guess I was hungrier than I thought." Sam paused for a moment looking out into the night. "You know, you're probably right."

"What about?" Al asked as he put more of the stew into Sam's plate.

"About staying here an extra day," Sam clarified before starting to eat the additional food Al had given him. "You have been doing much better. We must be close to 9,000 feet now."

Al dished the remainder of the stew into his own plate. "We did go down some rather steep inclines. Probably dropped pretty far darn fast."

"Well, we've left the note at the plane and we've marked our direction. It would seem to me that they should find us easily once they start looking. We're doing pretty well on supplies and even though we have to sleep uphill, this site doesn't seem half-bad. If you say we can rest a day, it wouldn't hurt either of us to do so."

Al liked the direction Sam's attitude was heading. He knew from Vietnam that sometimes attitude was the difference between surviving and not making it out alive. He'd feel a lot better if the emergency transponder was working instead of having the Search and Rescue having to rely on sight alone, but you couldn't have everything. They would be able to continue down the trail after the rest and hopefully come up on an actual trail back to the real world.

"Yeah, Sam. I think you're right."

After supper, Sam again insisted on washing up the dishes but this time Al suggested that he go along. He didn't tell Sam that he wanted to watch to see if he lost his dinner again tonight. Sam gave him an odd look but agreed. The dishes were cleaned up without incident.

After they were snuggled in the tent again, the only light the one hanging from the tie at the top of the tent, Sam reminded Al of his promise. "So, who did you lose?"

"Why do you think I lost someone, Sam?"

"The way you said you weren't going to take a chance on losing me. There was something in your voice…the way you said it and don't tell me I'm wrong."

Al sighed. "No Sam. You're not wrong. It was a long time ago, though."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt."

"You're right." He took a deep breath. "I had a sister. Her name was Trudy."

"What happened, Al?"

"She died of pneumonia."

"Where were your folks?"

"They just weren't around by that time." He stopped. "I'm really beat, Sam. You think we can just go to sleep now?"

"Yeah." Al turned the flashlight off. In the darkness, Sam added. "I'm sorry, Al. That must have been hard. I can't even imagine losing Katie."

"Yeah. Trudy was really special. I loved her dearly and losing her was really hard." He didn't say anything else for a moment and then repeated, "You think we can go to sleep now?"

"Okay, Al. Goodnight."

Al mumbled a goodnight back. He truly was tired although he'd really just wanted to stop talking about Trudy. He seldom, if ever, talked about her to anyone and he wasn't sure he was ready for that right now.

For several hours there was only the sound of the two men breathing in restful syncopation. The night was quiet.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_He was heading up the long driveway to the ugly red brick building. The grounds had been kept up nicely and there were groupings of painted outdoor chairs scattered across the lawn. He walked up to the imposing wooden door and rang the doorbell. A woman in a nurse's uniform granted him entrance and took him to the office where he was asked to sit down and a man came out to him._

"_Mr. Calavicci?"_

"_Yeah. Al Calavicci. I'm here to get my sister."_

"_Your sister?"_

"_Yes. Trudy, Gertrude Calavicci."_

"_Miss Calavicci died last week."_

"_WHAT!"_

"_She'd come down with pneumonia. I'm sorry. We did everything we could."_

"_You didn't think it was a good idea to contact me?"_

"_We called the orphanage that was your last contact number. They said you had left and didn't know where you had gone." _

"_Where is she now?"_

"_Since we had no way to contact you, she was buried in the cemetery on the grounds. I can take you there if you wish."_

_Al nodded and followed the doctor out to a fenced area a distance away from the main building. There were multiple wooden crosses in the yard with names painted on them. Some were so faded that you could no longer read the name or dates of the soul it commemorated. He noticed there were two newly dug graves and that puzzled him. He looked at the first cross. In new shiny black paint was the name and date "Gertrude Calavicci, 1937-1953." He looked to the other cross. "Samuel J. Beckett, 1953-1987" was clearly painted on it._

Al woke with a start, and an aborted scream of "no" on his lips. He reached over to the man sleeping next to him and felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest through the mummy bag. He tried to banish the vision from his eyes. Softly he whispered, "Oh God…don't let that be a premonition! Not him!" He continued to shake, eyes wide. Somehow, he knew he'd get very little sleep that night.

0000000

The quickly indrawn breath and the barely discernible presence of a hand on his chest broke through the barriers of Sam's sleep. "Al, something wrong?" he asked sleepily.

"No, nothing's wrong, Sam. Go back to sleep."

Sam pushed himself up to lean on his elbow and strained to see Al through the inky darkness. He couldn't see much of anything because of how dark it was. "If nothing's wrong then why are you awake and why were you checking to see if I was breathing?"

"I wasn't checking to see if you were breathing." Al denied.

"Really? So your hand just sort fell out of your bag and onto my chest. C'mon, tell me what's wrong." He waited a beat to see if Al would say anything then threw out one final word. "Please?"

Sam's plea was Al's undoing. For some reason he hadn't yet found a way to resist the kid's pleading – even now in the dark when he couldn't see the earnest, puppy-dog look that certainly accompanied it.

"You're a real pain sometimes, Beckett, you know that?"

"Pot, meet the kettle. Now c'mon, fess up and tell me, you know you're going to anyway."

Al sighed, knowing that Sam was right. However, he was only going to do it on his own terms. "If I tell you why I'm awake will you please be quiet and go back to sleep then. You said it yourself earlier, you need to be resting, not having late night chats."

"Sam?" Al prompted when there was no answer forthcoming. "I'm not saying anything unless you agree to go to sleep afterwards?"

"I nodded, Al."

"Oh, that's helpful. You have noticed it's dark in here, haven't you?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Oh yeah, he says."

"So…" Sam prompted when Al didn't say anything further.

"Okay, okay. I had a dream about my sister, when she died. Satisfied?"

"Not really. There's more to it than that."

_Boy, is there ever_, Al thought but he'd already decided that even if he did tell Sam about Trudy, there was no way he was going to tell him what he saw in that dream. "It's a really long story, Sam, and it's late."

"I like long stories and I don't think any of us is going anywhere."

Al took a deep breath and let it out. Maybe it was time to share his past with someone else. "My Mom walked out on us when I waseight. She couldn't handle Trudy and she left with some encyclopedia salesman. Anyway, Dad tried to keep us together but he couldn't. I ended up in an orphanage and Trudy ended up in an institution."

"I think I'm missing something," Sam interrupted. "Why'd your sister go to an institution?"

"Because…because she had Down Syndrome and that's what they did back then. Anyway, I went back to get her out of there when I was old enough but it was too late. She died the week before I got there. Pneumonia's what they told me killed her." Al's voice took on a pain that was evident even in the dark, "She was 16, Sam. She was only 16. I've never understood how a 16-year-old girl could die of pneumonia in 1953. Didn't they even try to help her?" The long held frustration and guilt over Trudy's death carried through in Al's voice.

Sam could tell by the choked sound that Al was likely holding back tears. He tried to comfort him even though he knew his words would probably be inadequate. "It wasn't your fault, Al. You went back for her as soon as you could."

A bitter breath exited from Al. "A lot of good that did her then. I couldn't even give her a proper burial. She had to stay in that cemetery at the institution with just a crummy wooden cross to mark her grave until I had her moved a few years ago." Al stopped a beat. "Nobody cared, Sam. She loved everyone and nobody cared."

Sam's hand reached over and touched Al's shoulder. "You cared. You still care."

"Yeah, I care. I just couldn't keep her safe."

Sam opened and closed his mouth trying to decide what more he could say. He realized that no matter what he said, he wouldn't be able to alleviate Al's grief. Needing to fill the space, he finally blurted out, "1953's the year I was born."

Al let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, that's a real coincidence, ain't it? You want the really freaky coincidence?" He didn't wait for Sam to answer but plowed on ahead. "She died on August 8 – the same day you were born. I always thought that was such a strange thing when I saw your birth date in your personnel file."

"I'm…I'm sorry," Sam whispered.

"What are you sorry for? You had nothing to do with any of it." Al let out another breath. "It is what it is, and none of us can go back and change it. I lost someone special to me that day and I'll never forget her. I also gained someone special that day, too. It just took many years before I knew it."

Both men lapsed into silence. Finally Al broke it. "That's enough mushy, maudlin stuff. You agreed that once I told you, you'd go back to sleep and I'm gonna hold you to that. Now lie back down and sleep."

"Thank you for trusting me," Sam said into the darkness before lying back down. Al heard him moving around for a while trying to find a comfortable spot. After a few minutes the small noises from Sam's shifting faded to nothing and Al assumed he'd gone back to sleep.

He strained his eyes in the dark trying to see the figure across from him. He'd felt something lighten in him when he'd shared the story about Trudy with Sam but the dream still had him unnerved enough that he didn't think sleep would come easily. He also had to restrain himself from once again reaching out to lay his hand on Sam's chest to feel its rise and fall.

Somewhere between wanting to check Sam one more time and wondering if they'd both be up to continuing down tomorrow or if staying put for another day would be for the best, he slipped off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When the next day dawned, there was a brightening in the sky and small breaks in the clouds. It was the first sign that things might be clearing up that had appeared since the snow the night the plane crashed.

When Al woke, he was surprised that he'd fallen asleep. After the dream he had had, and even after talking with Sam, he'd been convinced that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Not only had he slept, but he'd slept restfully. Looking over to Sam, he saw that he was still deeply asleep and didn't look like he intended to wake up soon.

Like he had the previous night, he noticed how peaceful Sam looked sleeping. He also noticed Sam's continuing pallor and the smudges under his eyes that contradicted the peaceful scene before him. He gently dropped his hand down to his forehead hoping that the slight fever Sam had been running yesterday had dropped. Unfortunately, his forehead was still warm from the fever.

The persistent fever was the deciding factor for Al. They'd be staying put, at least for today, and Sam was going to do nothing but rest even if it meant sitting on him. The dream was going to stay just that – a dream. He wouldn't let it be a harbinger of the future.

He grabbed the first aid kit from his pack and pulled out the bottle of Tylenol. Their supply of it was being depleted at a faster rate than he would have liked. He shook two of them out in his hand, retrieved the water bottle, and only then gently shook Sam to wake him.

"Is it morning?" Sam asked when he opened his eyes and saw Al's face.

"Yeah, it's morning. You wanna sit up so you can take these?"

Sam sat up but stared dumbly down at the two Tylenol Al held out to him before he finally took them from him and swallowed them down with a mouthful of water.

"Sam, you're still running a bit of a fever. I need to know if that's normal with everything else you've got going on."

"Yeah, sometimes there's a fever with bruised kidneys. It's normal – it's not something new." He struggled to hold back a yawn but didn't succeed. "I'm so tired."

"Well, we're staying put today so that'll give you plenty of time to rest. Why don't you lie back down for a little while?" Al guided Sam back to horizontal and made sure he was tucked into the warmth of the sleeping bag. He worried when Sam didn't put up an argument. "I'm gonna go get the fire going again and get us some breakfast. You try to get some more rest 'til then."

"Okay," Sam replied hunching deeper into the sleeping bag. As Al started to leave the tent, he brought his head up as a thought occurred to him. "How are you feeling today, Al? Have you had any trouble breathing or any coughing?"

"I'm doing all right," Al answered. "A lot better than I was yesterday. You just rest up now so we can get you on the road to being better too."

Al waited until Sam had lain his head back down before he left the tent.

He decided to fix oatmeal for breakfast. The little packets were a perfect size and the carbohydrates would be easier on Sam's stomach with a fever. Hopefully it would also appeal to his sense of taste as well. He pulled together their breakfast and took both the bowl of oatmeal and a cup tea into the tent. He shook Sam awake again.

"What?" Sam asked raising his head. He hadn't been that deeply asleep and came awake the minute Al called his name.

"Breakfast in bed, Sam."

"I'm not hungry, Al. I don't want anything."

"I don't remember asking if you were hungry. Now c'mon and eat it before it gets cold." Al said putting the bowl down where Sam could reach it and helping him up into a sitting position.

"You didn't have to do this, Al. I could have come out."

"Uh uh. No way, Kid. You're staying in bed today. You said it yourself. Rest is what you need."

"Fine. I may not like it, but as a doctor, I know it is for the best." He took a bite of the oatmeal, swallowing it and a sip of tea before asking, "So, what are you going to do today?"

"I'm scouting a little ahead. It won't hurt to see what he have coming up instead of being surprised again. There have been way too many of those since we left New Mexico."

"You can say that again," Sam said in quick agreement. He continued to eat his breakfast and when he was finished, he handed the bowl back to Al. "Thanks. I'm still tired. I'm going back to sleep. Happy scouting." With that, he snuggled back down and fell back to sleep quickly.

Al knew that Sam must be really hurting to do that and it worried him. Samuel Beckett was one of the most determined men he'd ever met, and he'd met a lot of determined men in his time. Between the Navy, MIT, and NASA he found leaders that would forge ahead full speed. Sam was no different and yet there was a level of commitment he couldn't put his finger on. He didn't give in to adversity easily. He shook off the musing. It wouldn't help his mission for today.

He pulled together a daypack with water, a granola bar, his rain gear and a few other required items and headed off down the stream. He'd been hiking about a half hour when he heard it. "Damn!" Moving ahead, he found his worst fears confirmed. The stream reached a drop off and turned into a waterfall. He looked to the left and the right and realized that the only choice would be to go back uphill to the plane and find another way off the mountain.

He didn't look forward to the fight he was going to have with Sam. He knew the doctor in him would try to keep from going back citing Al's HAPE as the reason. Al didn't want to go up anymore than Sam would. It would be tough climbing back up and with Sam's kidney; it would put a strain on him. He may not have the medical training Sam did, but he'd seen plenty in Vietnam. He knew such injuries could cause complications further down the line. Still, if they didn't go, they weren't taking every possible option to be rescued.

He headed back to camp. If nothing else, he wasn't going to tell the kid any of this until tomorrow morning. The more rest the he had, the better he'd take the bad news.

When he got back to camp, the first thing he did was check on Sam. He was still sleeping but not as deeply as he had been before. A fine sheen of perspiration covered his face and when Al again checked to see if the fever had dropped any he was dismayed to find that Sam felt warmer than he had before. Despite that, chills seemed to course through his body.

Al's touch brought Sam blinking to wakefulness. "Al?" he questioned, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "I thought you were going scouting."

"I did, Sam. I just got back."

"Oh."

"Have you been sleeping the whole time?"

A small nod was his only answer.

"I think it's probably a good idea if you drink some water so you don't dehydrate."

Sam pushed himself up to sit but only made it all the way with some assistance from Al. He accepted the bottle of water held out to him and drank deeply from it before handing it back to Al.

"Can you help me get dressed?"

"No way. I told you, you're staying put right here today."

"I know, Al and I'm really not planning on going anywhere but since I don't see any trees growing in here and I don't feel like taking a walk out there in just a pair of socks I'd appreciate the help."

"Oh. Okay, then but afterwards you're coming right back here – no arguments."

"Don't worry, I won't give you any."

When Sam emerged from the tent and stood up his balance was less than perfect and Al had to reach out a hand to steady him.

"You getting dizzy again?" he asked.

"Just a little. Probably because I've been lying down for so long."

Once he got his balance, Sam pushed away from Al and headed in the direction of the trees.

"Don't wander far," Al admonished watching him go. He was tempted to follow after but instead elected to give Sam his privacy and contented himself with watching him from where he was.

When Sam came back, he dutifully went back into the tent and plopped down wearily on his sleeping bag.

"You still bleeding?" Al asked as he bent to the task of untying and taking off Sam's boots.

Sam closed his eyes and nodded. "It's not getting worse, though."

"I take it hasn't gotten any better either."

"No, it's not getting better either." Sam said softly. "As long as it's not getting worse there's really nothing to worry about," he added in a stronger voice before adding on softly, just loud enough that Al barely heard, "at least I don't think."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Al questioned picking up on the last of what Sam said. "What haven't you told me?"

"Nothing, Al." Sam sighed lying back and curling on his side. "I haven't held anything back. I just feel so…so…" he blew out a breath and pushed himself up on his elbow. "I didn't feel half this bad yesterday and I guess it's kind of scaring me. If I am getting worse then I'm no good to you. I'll just be a hindrance to us getting down from here. I'm just so afraid that if I can't help us then we'll both…" Sam gave a tiny shake to his head and lay back not finishing his thought.

Al didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know what Sam was thinking. The positive attitude he'd had the previous night was quickly evaporating.

Al rested his hand on Sam's arm and rubbed up and down it positive that now would definitely not be the time to tell Sam about having to go back. "We're gonna make it, Sam. You just have to believe that and keep thinking positive. There're breaks in the clouds today so that means they should be able to get the S&R planes up in the air so we're a lot closer to help now than we were yesterday. I just need you to keep on having faith. Okay?"

His only answer was the smallest of nods.

"C'mon and sit up again just for a second so we can get your coat off. You'll be a lot more comfortable without it on."

Al was just getting ready to put Sam's coat over to the side out of the way when he asked for it back. Al handed it to him and watched as Sam drew from the inner pocket the note from his father. Once he had it in his hand he sank back to lie on the sleeping bag. Al encouraged him to get inside it to be sure he kept warm.

"Try to get some more rest," Al suggested not knowing what else to do or say. "I'll wake you up in a little while so you can have some lunch. I've got some packets of soup I can make for us."

"Soup sounds good. I'll just sleep now."

Al sat beside Sam until he drifted off to sleep still keeping a tight hold on the page from the book. "How'd you do it, Kid? How'd you work your way into my life like this?" he whispered before quietly leaving the tent.

0000000

Al let Sam sleep until he woke naturally instead of waking him to eat. He was hoping that the rest would at least put him in a better frame of mind. Sam's quick acquiesce to stay in bed resting was very out of character for him. Although it was rare that Sam was ever ill, the few times he had been while working on StarBright he'd still pushed himself to do his work despite everyone arguing that he go home and rest. When he'd sprained his ankle in a game of basketball, Al had urged Sam to stay home at least for one day but he'd heard nothing of it. He'd been in his office early the next morning and hadn't allowed the injury to slow him down.

Now he was not only taking Al's advice to rest and sleep but was seeking it out himself. Al knew it spoke to Sam's emotional state right now as well as the physical.

When he heard Sam begin to stir in the tent, he put on water to boil and pulled the packets of soup out of his pack. He highly doubted he'd be able to get Sam to eat much else but wanted to make sure he was getting something into him. While the water heated, he went back into the tent to check on Sam.

"You going somewhere?" he asked when he saw Sam struggling to get his coat on.

"Just thought I'd sit outside with you for a while. I'm tired of looking at orange walls."

Al understood the need to get out of a small space when one had been there way too long. "All right, but you sit your butt down and that's it. You're on complete rest today." In some small way Al hoped that Sam would argue with him. At least then he'd know that the kid's spirit wasn't completely sapped.

"I don't think I can really do much else. Can you hand me my boots?"

Al didn't let Sam out of the tent until he was sure he was dressed warmly with coat, hat and gloves all in place. Only then did he let him outside.

"Hey, it's sunny," Sam said looking up to the sky.

"Yeah, clouds really broke a little while ago. It might not last long, though."

The water had started to boil and Al poured it into the mug with the packet of soup and stirred it before handing it to Sam. "Try to get that into you."

Sam accepted the cup from him and cradled it between his hands allowing the steam from it to warm his face. He'd elected to not use the sling or immobilize his arm since he hadn't been moving around. "Not quite like Mom makes," he said after taking a small sip of the soup.

"No, probably not but it's good for you just the same."

Sam nodded and took a few sips before continuing, "You weren't out scouting long. I thought you'd be gone most of the day."

"I didn't want to get too far from the campsite. I just went as far as I needed to go to see if the path we're on is clear."

Sam took another sip from the mug. "So, is it?"

Al didn't answer Sam's question and lapsed into silence trying to decide what to tell him and how. He'd been hoping, no planning, on not telling Sam about the need to go back the way they'd come later that night or even tomorrow morning.

Sam noticed the pause and concerned asked, "Al? Is it clear or do we have to change direction?"

"It's not clear," Al answered quickly, realizing he wouldn't be able to put it off. "There's a steep drop off about a half hour ahead and there's no way around it."

Not realizing the magnitude of the answer, Sam asked, "So which way do we need to go to get around it?"

Here it comes, Al thought. Now we'll see the fireworks. "There's no way around it. Zip, nada, zilch. Our only choice is to go back the way we came to the crash site and pick a new direction from there."

Sam looked at Al, incredulous, "Go back?" He started shaking his head adamantly, "Uh uh, no way, Al. There's no way we're going back. We can't. If we go back that means we go up and if we go up that means you're gonna get worse again. There's just no way I'm gonna risk that so just pick another solution to this problem because it's not going to be that one."

"Sam, there is no other way. That's our only choice. Do you really think I'd choose to go up if there was any other way we could go?"

Sam looked his friend straight in the eyes, and voiced his deep concern. "There's got to be another way. Aren't you listening to me? If we go back up you could die."

"I am listening to you, but I don't think you're listening to me." Al had been hoping to see some spark in Sam but now that he was, he was almost wishing Sam would just go back to acquiescing to everything he suggested. "If we go right or left we're gonna hit the same drop off. If we go straight the way we've been going, it's a drop off and we don't have any climbing equipment - not that you're in any shape to use it if we did. That only leaves us one choice. Trust me, Kid, it's not my first choice either but it is the only one we have."

"No it isn't," Sam challenged. "There is another choice."

"What would that be?" Al asked trying to tamp down his frustration. "Are you planning on sprouting wings and flying us out of here?"

"No. You're forgetting that there's always the status quo. It's a valid choice. We just stay put and let help come to us. We marked the crash site and we marked our way so we just stay here and wait for help to find us."

Al shook his head, looking into Sam's eyes, asking him to trust him. "And what if they don't, Sam? How long do you think we could last here? Our supplies are only going to hold out so long and you need medical care. Proper medical care – not a bottle of Tylenol and good night's sleep. That means we need to do whatever we can to either get ourselves off this mountain or get us to the people who can. We're out of options."

Sam, not wanting to accept what Al was telling him, answered, "But you could die. It's too risky."

"Life's a risk, Sam. I could die crossing the street; it doesn't mean I stop crossing streets. Dying on this mountain is not something I want to do, trust me. I want us to get off it before it's too late. If there were any other way, any other option, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Please, stop fighting me on this."

Sam's actions became agitated. "I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you. Don't you see?"

Faster than Al would have given Sam credit for at this point he threw down the mug with the soup and took off at a run towards the boulder field.

"Sam!" Al yelled after him before taking off behind him.

The small burst of energy that had propelled Sam to run from the campsite evaporated almost instantly and he dropped to his knees on the ground. Al caught up with him quickly and dropped down to the ground next to him breathing hard.

"You're not gonna lose me, Sam. I'm gonna be here," he said after he'd caught his breath.

With a passion that Al couldn't fathom, Sam shook his head violently. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. Everyone I care about who says that leaves me."

"Look at me, Sam. Look at me." Al grabbed Sam's face forcing him to look up at him. "I'm making you a promise right now that I'm not going leave you alone. Do you hear me? That's a promise."

Sam continued to shake his head in denial of Al's words.

"Hey, in all the time you've known me have I ever broken a promise? Ever?"

"No," Sam conceded in a small voice.

"That's right, I haven't. I don't intend to start now either. So we're gonna do what needs doing to get us both home…alive. Okay? Okay?"

Sam looked into Al's eyes and saw truth in them. He had to hang onto that even if his past kept screaming at him not to believe it. "Yeah, okay."

Al nodded, releasing Sam. "Good. Now we're going back over to the tent, I'm going to make you another mug of soup, and you're going to eat it this time. Once you're done with that, you're going to lie down again and get as much rest as you can. You're gonna need your all your energy tomorrow." He reached out his hand to help the kid up.

Sam nodded his agreement of Al's plans and took Al's hand to pull him up. "I'm sorry I ran like that."

"'S'okay," Al said once he was on his feet and leading him back to the campsite with an arm around his shoulders. "You were scared and angry. It's called being human."

The rest of the day Sam was uncharacteristically quiet. He ate his soup and then went back into the sleeping bag to sleep though Al guessed he was awake for a good part of the time.

Al woke him for dinner and he ate without complaint. He was able to eat a decent amount of the food put on his plate and that did a lot toward alleviating some of Al's worries. Not only that, but after he ate there was no appearance of the nausea he'd been suffering on and off. He still remained quiet and withdrawn, though. When he started to suggest doing the dishes again and Al said he'd do them, Sam didn't even try to argue.

Through this day of silent agreement, Al noticed that Sam would take the page from the book out and simply hold it. He remembered that Sam's father had given him the book to keep from trying to drive his brother crazy. Al wondered if he was using the memory to try and stop driving him crazy as well.

Night had fallen by the time Al got back from cleaning up the remains of their dinner and a chill wind had started to blow. Low-lying clouds were also starting to move in and it looked like they'd be socked in again tomorrow. Al sincerely hoped that the S&R planes had made it up in the clear skies today and had seen their wreckage. Otherwise, there was no telling when that might happen again.

He cleaned up and got everything stored away and prepared as much as he could for their climb back to the plane. Now they just needed to get through the night.

When he got into the tent, he snapped on the light hanging from the tie at the top of the tent. Despite it being dark, he wasn't quite ready for sleep yet and had the feeling that Sam was also still awake. His suspicions were confirmed when Sam sat up as soon as the light came on.

"I didn't wake you, did I," Al asked even though he already knew the answer.

"No. I was awake. I don't think I'm ready to go to sleep again yet. I've slept so much today."

"Yeah, well, it's the best thing for you right now. Your back still bothering you?"

"Yeah, it's still sore. I guess it could be worse"

Al waited a long beat before asking, "Sam, what's on your mind."

"Nothing."

"You know, almost anyone else on the planet could tell me that, and I might believe them. You, I'm not buying it. You never have "nothing" on your mind." He paused another beat and added with a small smile, "Of course most of the people on the planet wouldn't understand a word of what you're thinking of most of the time."

Sam's head snapped up and he looked like he'd been sucker punched. "That's not fair, Al," he breathed out.

Al winced when he saw the expression on the younger man. He remembered Sam's confession of two nights ago about struggling to fit in with everyone around him and immediately he regretted his words. "You're right, Sam, it wasn't. I was just trying to make a joke and get your mind off whatever's bugging you. It wasn't fair and I'm sorry."

Sam tried a small smile of his own. "Yeah, I guess I just over reacted. I seem to be doing a lot of that today."

Al decided to tackle the main issue that Sam had with the return to the plane. "You're still concerned about the altitude and how I'll handle it, right?"

"I just wish there was some other choice, something not so dangerous."

"I do too. But you know, one of the things that help prevent altitude sickness is acclimating. That's what we didn't do on this trip. We just got really high up right from the start." He saw Sam nod, still not convinced. Al continued, "You know, I've been in the mountains many times, and this has never happened to me before. I've been getting better all day. Going to a higher altitude might not even affect me or if it does, it might be a heck of a lot less problematic then it was a couple of days ago. Besides, we'll need to go uphill a little slower then we came down. It will probably take us at least a day and a half to reach it."

"I know all that, up here," Sam said, pointing to his head. "The problem is here." He covered his heart with his hand. "It's like I said, when people say they're going to be there, they end up leaving. Only one person I know didn't leave, but he made me leave."

"What do you mean?"

"You know that Dr. LoNigro was my faculty advisor at MIT. He was the one who convinced Tom I should go there and Tom convinced me."

"I know Dr. LoNigro. He was the one who sent me your resume with a letter of recommendation. When the requisition came through to hire a Quantum Physicist, I hired you for StarBright. That letter really helped me to decide. He couldn't praise you enough."

"But you don't know the whole story, Al."

"Why don't you tell me?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Well, I went up to MIT the summer of 1970 about a week before my 17th birthday, even though I didn't actually start classes until the fall."

"Why'd you go up so early?"

"It was hard being at home. Mom and Dad didn't know what to do with me. I uh…I didn't take Tom's death very well. Dr. LoNigro had suggested it would be good for me to get to know the place before classes started. He sort of took me under his wing. Anyway, I finished my B.S. two years later and immediately started the doctorate work in Quantum Physics. That was also when I started my doctorate work at Harvard for Music."

"You were going to two schools at the same time?"

"Yeah. Music helped me to relax."

"So you got a doctorate in it."

"Well, it didn't really take that long. I don't think I would have played at Carnegie Hall if I hadn't. When I played for the professors for my acceptance into the doctoral program, they felt I had the skill to play at the upcoming artist's concert series the August after I received my bachelors."

"You played at Carnegie Hall?" Al asked in surprise. Somehow, Sam had never mentioned that before tonight.

"Yeah. Didn't I ever tell you that? I played a concert there when I was 19."

"I think I would have remembered that, Sam."

Sam was silent a moment thinking. "Dad was there for the concert. It was the last time I ever saw him. He died two months later. Mom wasn't exactly happy with me when I missed Dad's funeral although she never really said anything. I could just tell." Sam looked up at the older man, "I wanted to be there, Al. I tried so hard but the bus broke down. I tried but I couldn't get there in time"

"You tried, Sam. That's all anyone could ask of you."

Sam shook his head. "Mom didn't see it that way and boy did I feel guilty. I just buried myself in the doctoral programs after that. Having to focus on the academics kept me from having to face the reality that my family had fallen apart. Three years later I had my doctorates in Physics and Music but my relationship with Mom was still strained. I figured I needed to do something for her – that I owed it to her…to Dad. She'd always wanted me to be a doctor, so I went back to Harvard Medical and became one. After my internship at Mass General, I continued my post-doc work with Dr. LoNigro. I'd started working on my string theory with him when I did my doctoral work in physics and now we developed it more. I also took some Computer Science courses at MIT.

"What did your mother say when you became a doctor."

"She was proud of me. She gave me a keychain that I usually keep with me. I left them locked in the glove box of your car. I was afraid if I brought them with me I'd end up losing them." Sam tried a small smile. "I guess you would have just made me leave them behind instead."

"That was a good idea. How old were you when you got your MD."

"Spring of '78, a few months before my 25th birthday."

"That makes three, Sam. What about the other three?"

"No, that's four, Al. Not three." Sam proceeded to count off the doctorates for Al, "Physics, music, medicine, computer science."

"I thought you just took some courses in computer science."

Sam seemed to squirm just a bit. "Yeah, well, what can I say? I guess I've always been a bit of an over-achiever."

"Now there's an understatement. Okay, you've accounted for four of your doctorates. What about the other two."

"Well, when Dr. LoNigro became a guest professor at Cambridge in England in '79, I followed him there. That's when I got my doctorate in Archeology and Linguistics with a focus on Ancient Languages."

"How long did that take"

"Three years, including the year in the field in Egypt."

"I know I'm probably going to regret asking this but just for curiosity's sake, how many languages can you speak?"

"Seven modern languages and 4 dead ones."

"Okay. Don't worry; I'm not going to ask which ones you know. What did you do after getting your doctorates?

"I went back to MIT after Dr. LoNigro returned. I decided to finish my doctorate in Electrical Engineering. But then the offer came from StarBright. That was in '82."

"Wait a minute…finish your doctorate in Electrical Engineering?"

"Yeah. I'd taken a most of the classes and I only had two classes and my dissertation to finish."

"I hired you in '82."

"I know. I wanted to finish the degree but Dr. LoNigro said I had to stop hiding in school and start to live in the real world again. As long as I was in school, I didn't have to think about the people I'd lost - at least not all the time. Dr. LoNigro helped me get through those years. He told me he had to push me out of the nest I'd made for myself."

"You know he wasn't wrong."

"I know and we're still good friends. It was hard, though. But at least when he pushed me out of the nest he pushed me in your direction…and Donna's." The hurt in Sam's voice was unmistakable. "I believed her when she said she'd be there for me but you know what happened."

"She wasn't the right one for you, Sam."

Sam looked up quickly at Al determined to defend Donna even though she'd hurt him so deeply. "She was everything I ever wanted in a woman."

"Take it from me, Sam. That isn't always enough. She may have been everything you ever wanted in a woman but she didn't love you enough to stay. It never would have worked and you would have ended up getting your heart broken eventually except then the two of you probably would have hated each other."

"I guess you're right but it's still hard. Throughout my life, it seems that when I get close to someone, they leave. Well, other then Mom and Katie." He stopped for a minute before continuing. "I've only known you for five years, but I don't know if I could stand it if you were gone too."

"I'm not going anywhere. It hasn't always been easy for me either. If you hadn't come along when you did, I'd probably be living on the streets with a bottle in a brown paper bag as my only friend."

"I doubt it would be that bad, Al."

"I don't. I was out for the count. No one else saw anything good in me anymore. **I** didn't see anything good in me. No, Sam. It's true. I wouldn't have half the life I do now if it wasn't for you." He reached up to turn the light off. "Now, we've got a long hard day tomorrow. I think we ought to get some sleep so lie back down and see if you can get that overactive brain of yours to turn off and go to sleep."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Both men slept pretty well, knowing that getting rest before the climb back up was in their best interests. The dawn was creeping in before either one of them stirred. Al hopped out of bed, and started getting the water boiling. He decided that going back to scrambled eggs would be a good idea considering they would be working hard getting up the mountain again. He was just about to wake up the farm boy in the tent when he heard the sound of him moving around. A few minutes later and he saw the man's head stick out through the opening of their temporary home.

"Morning, Sam. Breakfast is almost done."

"What are we having?"

"Scrambled eggs."

"Again?"

"Sorry, pal. This isn't Denny's."

"I know. Okay, Al. Serve it up. I guess if I'm going to climb a mountain today, I ought to eat something substantial. I tell you this, though, the first thing I'm gonna do when we get off this mountain is have something else for breakfast – anything else as long as it's not scrambled eggs."

"Oh yeah? If you could have anything you wanted for breakfast right now what would it be?"

Sam closed his eyes, picturing his answer in his mind. With a slight grin he answered, "My Mom's griddle cakes. Right now I'd kill a bear for some of them."

Al laughed. "Be careful what you wish for, Sam. You never know what's just around the corner."

Al was happy that Sam seemed to have come round the bend again. Sam was one of those people that you generally could tell how he was feeling just by looking at him. Normally he was on a pretty even keel, but push him one way or the other, and you could get some interesting results. There'd been a lot of pushing done the last couple of days.

Al noted that Sam had managed to tie his shoes. Not well, but at least enough to go assault a tree, which is what he figured Sam was bound and determined to do. He still couldn't get a coat on though, although Al watched him for a minute trying to do just that. Sam just couldn't seem to get his left arm to move in the right direction to get in the sleeve.

"Here, let me help you with that."

Knowing he wasn't going to get any better at it and really needing that tree, he agreed. Al helped him into it and watched Sam go to commune with nature, at least for a few minutes. He was back a few minutes later and seemed a bit happier. When Al asked him what was going on, he said he thought maybe the kidney was a bit better and the hematuria wasn't as bad as it had been. He figured all the rest he'd had probably helped.

They ate their breakfast and then broke camp. Again, Al balanced out the packs. He got Sam into his and retied his shoes tighter. There was no need getting a blister on top of everything else. When he tried to get him into the sling, Sam refused it. If going up was going to be harder he was going to need the use of two arms to keep his balance – even if one arm was still nearly useless. They headed up to return to the plane.

It took quite a bit longer going up then it had coming down. They stayed to the stream but climbing over the logs and boulders along the path was tiresome. Sam noted all the rock cairns that had been built as they had come down the mountain and chalked it up to a wasted effort at this point. He decided to knock them down. He certainly didn't want someone else coming down to a dead end. He didn't say anything to Al but he was hoping that they'd meet up with an S&R party along their trail that was out looking for them.

Al found he had to let Sam rest ever thirty minutes or so. While Sam had started out with a great deal of energy, it lagged quickly. More times then he thought was normal, he saw him reach around to rub his back and side. He figured the stress Sam was putting on his body wasn't helping the kidney any and fervently hoped whatever ground Sam had gained by resting the day before wasn't lost and then some.

Al was still feeling good himself. He figured that although most of his statement the night before about becoming acclimatized was said to ease Sam's mind, there was probably some truth to it. Acclimation was one's best friend when altitude sickness was involved. They were on their third stop when Sam suddenly turned white.

"What's the matter, Sam?"

He didn't say anything but just pointed behind Al. Al turned slightly and turned quite a few shades paler himself. There was a bear ambling directly towards them.

"Come over here, Sam…we've got to stand together."

"Why?"

"Makes us look bigger. Now, wave your arm and yell." The two of them made quite a sight and the bear looked at them and turned around, running back the other way.

"I wonder why we haven't seen a bear before." Sam asked once the bear was out of sight.

"The Weminuche Wilderness is pretty big. They tend to stay to their own territory."

Sam nodded. "Okay, but if we're in its territory, let's get the hell out of it." He stood up and started hiking up the stream again. Al smiled. That would get his butt in gear. They'd surely make a little bit better time, at least for a while. His smile got a bit wider as an idea came to him. "Hey Sam," Al called after the retreating back. "You should have killed it. Then you could have had your Mom's griddle cakes."

"Ha ha funny," Sam called back over his shoulder

By the time lunchtime arrived, Sam's pallor had returned. They had made a good start. Al figured they still had a ways to go, but he was now sure they'd reach the plane by late the next morning. He handed Sam a granola bar.

"Where did you go to school, Al?" Sam asked as he peeled the wrapper from the granola bar.

"Me? I got my undergrad in Aerospace Engineering at the Naval Academy and later went back to school and got my doctorate in Astrophysics at MIT. That was part of the reason I was on the Apollo mission."

"I don't know if I could see the Earth from that height." A shudder went through Sam's frame. "I don't do well with heights."

"That might have been a good thing to mention before we went camping up in the mountains. At least now I know why you kept your eyes closed during the flight. Why didn't you tell me you don't like to fly? All this time I was thinking it was your confidence in my piloting ability – not that I did anything to foster that." He took a bite from his granola bar and washed it down before continuing, "But from space, it's not really that bad. You don't really notice the height. Earth just looks like a big marble sitting on black velvet from the moon. You'd be more likely to have problems with claustrophobia. The capsule wasn't really that large."

Sam looked over to the older man and smiled a half grin. "You've done a lot in you life already and I've really just started. I mean, I was in school up until five years ago and I've only been on the StarBright Project since then."

"And now you've got Project Quantum Leap ahead of you," Al added.

"I don't have it yet, Al. We still don't know if they're going to fund it. If we can't get government funding on it, I don't think it's likely we'd be able to get enough private funding."

"How would you feel if it didn't happen - if we weren't able to get the funding?"

"Well, I knew it was going to be an uphill battle to begin with." He started to laugh.

"What, Sam?"

"Uphill battle? Isn't that what we're doing now?" The concept was really tickling him and he laughed louder and deeper.

Al couldn't help catching the infectious sound. "Yeah, you're right."

The laughter went on for a few more moments and then settled down again. Sam rubbed his eyes. "God, I hope this isn't a real metaphor for the project."

"I'm sure everything's going be fine, Sam."

Sam's eyes came up, true concern written in them. "Is it, Al? I mean, the committee thinks I'm some kind of Looney Tune. I've suggested that we'll be able to observe actual events in the past – as they happened. Who in their right mind would believe that?"

"You do."

Sam suddenly laughed; a hint of the concern still in his eyes. "Yeah, but I'm the Looney Tune, remember? What sane person would believe it?"

"I believe it, Sam. I've seen your calculations, seen the data. You're on to something." Al tried to convey to Sam the trust he felt in Sam's understanding of the universe.

"You really believe me, Al?" The question carried more then just the need to know that his work was based on logic.

"Of course. You think I'd go up to Capitol Hill and try to cajole those nozzles out of a few billion dollars if I didn't?"

Sam nodded. "I guess not."

"And the rest of the scientists who've agreed to come on board - they believe it. Besides, you're not a Looney Tune. You're more like something out of Merry Melodies," Al finished with a smirk. He had to get Sam into a better mood.

Sam stopped in mid-chew processing just what Al had said to him. It took a couple of seconds for the last part to sink in. "Oh, ha, ha, aren't you the funny man," he said before breaking down into genuine laughter. Al soon joined him in the laughter.

"Thanks, Al," Sam said soberly once they'd both stopped laughing.

"What for?"

"For being you."

Once they were done eating their lunch, they gathered up their things to start up the mountain again. When Al helped Sam on with his pack he noticed the way Sam flinched and drew in quick breath when his hand bumped into his back. Putting the pack down Al pulled Sam's coat, sweater and undershirt out of the way and let out a low whistle when he got a look a his bared back. "Geez, you should see this bruise."

"I'll have to take your word for it since I can't see back there myself. If it looks anything like what it feels, I can imagine it's not too pretty."

"With all the colors 'pretty' might be a good way to describe it. It starts here just under your rib cage," Al said lightly skimming a finger along the top edge of the bruise. "I can't tell how far down it goes 'cause it disappears somewhere below your waistband."

"Well, I'm not dropping my pants just to satisfy your curiosity. Do you mind putting my shirt back down? It's getting a little chilly."

Al dropped Sam's clothes back into place and again helped him get the pack on. He was far more careful this time after having seen the bruising on Sam's back. Once they were both set, they headed off again their destination getting closer with every step.

0000000

Most of the rest of the afternoon's hiking was spent in silence. Al was thinking ahead to what direction they should take when they got back to the crash site and Sam was doing his best to conserve his strength. The inclines that had been steep and tricky coming down were twice as tricky to go up. On several occasions, Sam found himself close to taking a tumble back down when he'd lose his balance. After a few near misses, Al suggested it might be time to put Sam's arm back in the sling. The last thing they needed was for Sam to put that hand down instinctively to catch his balance and dislocate the shoulder again.

They set up camp a little before nightfall, figuring to get as far up the mountain as they could. It would mean less work the next day. Sam was a somewhat upset that they hadn't run into any S&R personnel during the day. He'd been certain that was what would happen. When it didn't, it worried him but at the same time made him realize that Al was right. If they had stayed where they were, there were no guarantees they'd be found, no matter how many rock cairns or how much flagging tape they used.

They were both dead tired and Sam didn't even care what Al dished up for him. If it were edible, he'd eat it. He took on his role of clean up crew again. When he got back, he wondered where Al had gone. He called for him and was surprised when no answer returned. He started getting a little worried when he noticed Al walking back from out of the woods.

"Where did you go?"

"Um, Sam, you're not the only one who has to commune with nature on a regular basis."

"Yeah, that make's sense. I guess I just hadn't ever noticed you gone before…I mean that you didn't tell me about before."

"Well, it's not something you really keep track of."

"That's true."

Sam handed the eating utensils back to Al who put them away. "Let's get to sleep. Hopefully by this time tomorrow we'll have made some pretty good time getting off this mountain."

Sam agreed and they crawled into the tent, heading quickly off to dreamland.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Sam was the first one up the next morning. He'd been watching Al do the breakfasts since the plane had crashed and decided that if he the meal for a chance it would be nice. He pulled out the small camp stove and set everything up, lit it and put the water on to boil. He was digging around in Al's pack to find something other than scrambled eggs when Al opened his eyes.

"What are you doing, Sam."

"I'm making breakfast."

"You're what?"

"I thought it might be nice. You've done it everyday we've been on this adventure so I thought it was my turn."

Al pulled himself out of his mummy bag and put on his shoes. He went out to see how things were progressing. "You ever used a stove like this before?"

"No. I just watched you."

"You did a good job of it, Sam. You pick up on things pretty quick."

Sam smiled shyly and bent back to the task of getting their breakfast ready.

"I bet you drove your parent's crazy tearing things apart and putting them back together again."

Sam's head jerked up in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Oh, I don't know. You just seem the type," Al said with a smile.

"Yeah. There's lot's of equipment on a farm and Dad was always doing what he could to keep it in working order. I'd just watch him and then do it myself. The first time I took the tractor apart, he wasn't really sure I could get it back together."

"How old were you?"

"Nine."

"You know, most kids work on a toaster or a vacuum cleaner."

"Well, I said I was an over-achiever. Besides, I was more afraid Mom would tan my hide if I took apart her vacuum cleaner than I was of Dad if I took the tractor apart."

The water had come to a boil and a breakfast of oatmeal and hot beverages was served. The two men quickly finished it, cleaned up, and headed on their way.

They'd been hiking about two hours, Sam needing a few less rest stops this morning, when they reached the meadow. Sam looked across the way, seeing the flagging still in place. He thought that maybe that's why the S&R team couldn't find them…that the flagging had blown away but now he knew he'd been wrong about that. They headed out towards the crash site.

Everything was exactly as they had left it. Sam looked to Al, crestfallen, "Nobody's been here."

"I told you, Kid. With it socked in like it's been, they can't put planes into the air. They'd be risking another crash."

"Yeah, but there's been a few breaks in the weather. Wouldn't they have taken the opportunity to find us then? Why couldn't they pick up on the emergency transponder?"

Al didn't answer. He looked off in the distance. "Um, not sure, Sam." He stopped for a moment and then added. "Hey, let me scout around to find another way down the mountain. You can write another letter to let them know where we've gone. I'll be back in a bit." Before Sam could say anymore, he started heading off.

"Wait a minute," Sam called after him. "Just what aren't you telling me?"

"Um, I don't know what you mean, Sam." Al hedged before turning to Sam with the most disarming smile he could muster. "Why do you think I'm not telling you something?"

"Because you're no better at keeping secrets from me than I am from you. You're trying to make a quick get away and avoid something and I want to know what it is. Hell, I think I have a right to know what it is. I'm in this just as much as you are."

Al silently cursed his inability to hide anything from Sam for very long and wondered, not for the first time, how two people could only know each for a short time and still be able to read each other as if they'd known each other their entire lives. "Okay, there is something I've sort of not told you about," Al hedged. "But it's really not that bad in the whole scheme of things."

"Really? Then why don't you just tell me what it is and stop tap dancing around it."

"Okay the transponder's not working," Al blurted out. He had a hunch that the fireworks display he was about to be treated to would far outshine the one he'd gotten when he'd told Sam they had to come back up the mountain.

"The transponder's not what?" Sam asked in shock. "You wanna run that past me again 'cause I could have sworn you just told me that the emergency transponder's not working and I know you couldn't have **just** told me that now 5 days later."

"Now, Sam, just calm down," Al said holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "It's really not as bad as you think it is. We stayed right on the flight plan I filed so even without the transponder S&R should have a good idea where we went off radar. Plus, I'm almost 100 positive my last Mayday call was received and I gave them our location then. We didn't go far once I radioed that in."

"Al, just when did you find out the transponder wasn't working?" Sam asked in a deceptively calm voice. It was a calm that Al knew generally preceded an explosion of temper.

"The day after we crashed when I checked out the plane." Al mentally winced at the confession. He hoped Sam wouldn't question him about what else he'd found checking out the plane. There was no way the kid was in any shape emotionally to find out about the plane being tampered with.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why let me pin my hopes on someone finding us because of it? Why do you do this, Al? Why do you treat me like a kid and not tell me everything?" With each question, the volume of Sam's voice got louder and louder.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd just get upset and that's the last thing we need. We need both of us to be calm if we're gonna get out of this. Look at yourself, you're about as far from calm right now as you can get. You keep yelling the way you are and we're not going to need an emergency transponder. They can just follow the sound of your voice."

Sam turned from Al and walked a few steps away. Taking a deep breath, he turned back around and forced himself to exhibit a calm he wasn't feeling at the moment. "Okay, why isn't it working?"

Al took a deep breath of his own and pinched his nose. "In for a penny in for a pound" he muttered. "Something's wrong with the battery," he said in a louder voice. I don't think it was working when we took off and before you ask me how that happened, I have no idea." With any luck by derailing Sam from asking the question, Al hoped he could avoid telling him anything about the engine.

Sam again turned from Al walking away from him until he was next to the plane. "Damn it," he said suddenly hitting the side of the wreckage with his fist. "There's no way they're gonna find us now." He hit the side of the plane again with less force and added in more softly, "I'm not gonna be there for my family again."

Al approached Sam and rested a hand on his shoulder feeling the tenseness and trembling beneath the coat. "They'll find us, Kid, and if they don't, we'll find them first. You need to just hang on to that." He pulled on Sam's shoulder until he turned around to face him. "Look at me." He waited until Sam raised his head to meet his eyes. "I'm not gonna lie to you and tell you this is gonna be easy. You've figured that out already. I am gonna tell you that we're going to do everything we can and we are going to get off this mountain. The main thing, though, is we both need to stay calm like we've been doing and keep our heads."

"Okay, you're right but no more hiding things 'cause you don't want me to get upset. I'll just find out about it later and it'll be worse."

"You got a deal," Al said as he looked around them. "Look, I'm gonna scout around and see if I can find us another direction to go in. You stay here, write up a new note and I'll be back." Al didn't give Sam a chance this time to call him back as he hurried away.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Sam looked after Al until he disappeared behind a grouping of boulders. Letting out another deep breath he pulled open the door to the plane and pulled himself into the pilot's seat grabbing the notebook and pen. He set about penning another note explaining what had happened and where they'd gone but stopped when he realized that until Al came back he wouldn't know what direction to put in the note. Dropping the notebook on the seat next to him, he rubbed his hand over his face before slouching down and staring straight ahead.

This was now their sixth day since the plane had crashed and for all intents and purposes it looked like no one had been looking for them yet – or likely would ever look for them. By now even if S&R was looking for them he figured they'd probably only be thinking about recovering their bodies. Despite what Al had said, their situation did look hopeless. He'd seen how depleted their food supply was getting when he'd fixed breakfast this morning. That could only last so long and then what were they going to do?

Glancing over to the seat next to him, he saw his book resting there under the notebook. Picking it up from the seat, he pulled it from the bag Al had put it in and idly started leafing through the pages. He's lost count early on how many times he'd read it when he was growing up and though he hadn't read it in years he could picture, in his mind's eye, whole passages from the pages, picturing the sled dog, Buck, and his masters. Letting the book fall open on his lap, he ran his hand over the creamy linen pages and let his mind drift back to when he was growing up.

He hadn't told Al quite the whole truth about that first camping trip with Tom. Not only had the book worked to keep him distracted while Tom had set up the tent but later that night it had been his talisman in the dark to ward off all the things that went "bump in the night". Tom had taken the opportunity that night to tell him ghost stories before they'd gone to bed. Sam's overly active imagination had given life to the ghosts and ghouls Tom had told him about. Not wanting his older brother to think he was still a baby, instead of waking him when he'd had bad dreams he'd instead pulled out the book hugging it to him and remembering how it always made him feel safe when Dad read it to him.

Unconsciously Sam hugged the book to his chest now imagining the sound of his father's steady voice as he'd read the story to Sam so many times over the years. He hoped it would give him the same sense of security now that it had on that camping trip all those years ago. Sitting there he realized just how tired he was. It wasn't a simple tiredness from all the physical activity but a bone-deep weariness stemming from the situation as a whole. He longed to be able to turn off his brain and sleep and when he woke everything would be back to normal – they'd be off the mountain and back to their lives. The likelihood of that happening was pretty much non-existent. Despite that, Sam still gave into his weariness and let his eyes drop closed slouching down further into the seat and keeping a hold on the book. As he started to relax, a muscle spasm caught him and he reached to his back, massaging the area. Eventually the spasm ended and he started to drift. Things might not be better when he opened his eyes but Al would probably be back telling him they had a way off this mountain. Until then, he decided he could just let go for a little while.

It didn't take very long before he found himself in the twilight place that was neither sleep nor wakefulness and allowed himself to float there in what felt like a sea of calm. As long as he did, things didn't seem quite so bad and the near constant pain that had accompanied him in one form or another for the last several days seemed to be far and distant.

0000000

"Where'd he get to?" Al asked aloud when he got back to the plane but didn't see Sam anywhere in sight. "Sam!" he called out as he approached the plane. As he got closer to it, he could just barely make out the top of Sam's head through the window of the plane.

When he pulled open the door, he saw that Sam had fallen asleep while holding on to his book. On the one hand, Al would have liked nothing better than to allow the kid to sleep and rest but on the other he knew they only had a limited amount of daylight available to them and the faster they got going the sooner they'd make it to safety.

"Hey, Sam, time to wake up," he softly called reaching in to nudge Sam lightly.

"I'm awake," Sam muttered opening his eyes and pulling himself upright.

"You okay?" Al asked in concern.

Sam stretched and yawned. He shook it off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good. I just, uh…I guess as soon as I wasn't moving my body thought it was a good time to sleep. I'm okay, though. Did you find a different way for us to go?"

Al eyed Sam warily. He may have been saying he was okay but Al wasn't quite as sure. "Yeah, I did," he answered distracted. "There's another stream a bit to the south we can follow. It looks like it should be an easier path for us."

He watched as Sam reached over, grabbed the notebook, and wrote the information down.

"I guess we should head out, then," Sam said once he'd filled in the information about the direction.

"Yeah, we probably should," Al agreed. "Let's just eat something quick for lunch and then we'll head out."

Al watched as Sam climbed down from the plane. Reaching back in, he grabbed the bag that his book had been in, put it back in there, and gently laid it on the seat with the sealed note on top of it. His hand stayed a moment longer on the book and then he turned away. When Al had seen him holding it he'd sincerely hoped that Sam wouldn't press the issue to bring it with him again. Having the argument with him once had been bad enough. When he'd realized where the book came from and what it meant to Sam, Al had felt like he'd kicked a puppy when he made him leave it behind. He didn't want to repeat the feeling. He breathed a mental sigh of relief when he saw Sam return it to its place on the seat without comment or argument. The minute caress didn't pass his notice, however.

He broke out the granola bars handing one over to Sam with a bottle of water. "We'll use the flagging tape to mark our trail 'til we get over to the stream and then we'll use the rock cairns again so S&R will know we're going straight along it."

"Lot of good that's gonna do us." Sam said morosely. "Do you really think anyone's looking for us or is going to come looking for us?"

"Sure I do. It's just a matter of time."

Sam snorted softly. "Time? Now there's a real joke. It's been almost a week, Al. Even if they do send anyone out they're gonna be looking for our bodies not us."

Al broke off a piece of the granola bar and chewed it thoughtfully. "You're forgetting our ace in the hole," he said after he'd swallowed the piece of granola.

"Our ace in the hole?"

"Yeah. Your mom."

Sam wrinkled his brow in confusion not following along with Al's line of thought. "Mom? What's she got to do with any of this?"

Al took another bite of the granola bar chewing and swallowing it before he explained. "The way I see it, Sam, by now she's been notified of what happened. From what I've seen of Thelma Beckett there's no way she's going to let them call off the search or switch it from a rescue to a recovery operation. They try to do anything like that and she'd probably come out here herself looking for you."

"Oh boy, I didn't even think of Mom," Sam groaned. "She must be so worried. Damn it all. Everything just keeps going from bad to worse."

Al could have kicked himself for bringing up Sam's mother. He'd hoped pointing out that there was someone firmly in their corner who'd push for S&R to keep looking would have raised the kid's flagging spirits. Instead, he'd only given him something else to eat at his mind. Having no way to undo what he'd already done, Al forged ahead keeping to plain, basic facts.

"They'd have no choice but to notify her, Sam. She's your next of kin. As soon as the plane went missing they probably let her know." He reached over and rested a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "Hey, your mom's a pretty strong lady. I'm sure she's worried about you but I'm sure she's doing just fine."

"Katie," Sam suddenly blurted out.

"What about Katie?" Al asked.

"She left for a cruise with some friends the same day we left. Some last fling or something before the wedding. You don't think anyone called her and pulled her away from that, do you? That's not fair to her, Al."

"If anyone did try to get through to her they probably weren't able to. It's pretty damned near impossible to get in touch with those cruise ships sometimes. I guess we won't know that for sure, though, until we get back to civilization."

When he didn't get an answer from Sam he couldn't help agreeing with him silently. Things really were going from bad to worse. He only hoped that they were at the end of them getting worse. "C'mon, I think we're both about done eating. Let's get this show on the road."

The two men disposed of the remains of their meager lunch and shouldered their packs again setting off once more down the mountain with Al in the lead. As they went along Sam would, from time to time, tie the flagging tape along the way marking the path they were taking.

They'd traveled for about an hour when the stream reached a slight drop-off. It wasn't like the one that had forced them to turn back. Al told Sam to wait while he scouted over to the side to find way around. Sam figured the rest would be good and didn't argue. About a half an hour later, Al came back and told Sam there was another stream they could follow a little way from their current location. The only hitch was that they would have to cross an ice field.

Al explained that while by September most of the snow in the high mountains had melted, there were spots where the ice never truly melted, especially when the area was shaded on the north side like this area was. The snows that had been arriving with the storm fronts had dropped a bit more as well and the area had obviously been through several cycles of partial melting and freezing again. Al was concerned about going through the field but it would take too long to go around it and he had just traversed it safely. Sam nodded with Al's assessment that they should go through it.

They got up and started their trek again. About five minutes later, they came to the ice field. Al turned to his friend, "Be careful, Sam. Just follow where I step."

"Okay."

Al didn't say anything more. The going was slow but Sam was following well. They were getting closer to the edge and would be off the field in about thirty steps or so. He heard Sam pull in a painful breath behind him.

"Ooowww!"

Al turned and saw Sam reaching for his back, a grimace on his face. He figured the kid must have felt some kind of pain that caused him to twist. The movement threw off his balance and Al helplessly watched as Sam slipped on the ice, landing hard on his left side. Al tried to reach out and stop his buddy from continuing his fall but was unable grab him. Sam started sliding down the field, headfirst. Not having anything to grab onto to stop the slide, the younger man continued to pick up speed. A scream came from Al's lips, "No!"


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Al watched as Sam hit a boulder with a glancing blow on his injured shoulder and grimaced. That would definitely hurt. At the bottom of the field was another boulder, directly in line with Sam's trajectory. Al called out to Sam to twist away from it, but he wasn't sure the kid had heard him, things were happening too fast. He watched as the boulder stopped Sam's continued decent but was concerned with the force the man had hit it, again on his left side.

Sam didn't move. He'd slid about sixty feet down the mountain. Al had to get down quickly but didn't want to repeat Sam's fall. At this point, he was likely to be the only one to be able to get them out of this and getting injured himself wouldn't help. He finished hiking over to the edge of the field and made his way as quickly down to the injured man as he could.

When Al reached the still figure at the bottom of the ice field, the first thing he did was tentatively reach out his hand pressing it against Sam's neck looking for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the steady thrum against his fingers followed shortly after by a groan of pain. "Easy, Sam," Al cautioned resting his hand on the back of Sam's head. "Don't move around yet. Let's make sure there's nothing broken."

Al wrestled the pack off Sam – no easy feat to accomplish when he discovered that his shoulder had dislocated again. The necessary movement elicited a scream of pain from Sam. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Kid," Al intoned as he pulled the pack off. Once it was out of the way, he carefully rolled Sam over onto his back. This only caused Sam to express again the pain he was in. Al began checking him for any other injuries. Aside from some bleeding scratches on his face and the shoulder that was again dislocated, Al didn't find any visual evidence of any other injuries but that didn't mean there weren't hidden ones. He was still concerned about the way Sam had hit that last boulder.

"Sam, you gotta let me know where you're hurting. I can see your shoulder's popped out again. Are you hurting anywhere else? Did you hit your head again?"

"No head. Back and side," Sam gasped out. "Left side."

Al gently rolled Sam over partially onto his right side and pulled his coat, sweater and t-shirt out of the way. The bruise over his back from the crash had started to turn to shades of green and yellow as it faded but already a fresh bruise was starting to show up in the area again. "Damn," he said pulling Sam's clothes back in place and rolling him back over onto his back. "Looks like when you hit those rocks on the way down they got the worst of you. You've got another nice bruise coming out."

"More than just a bruise this time. Hurts bad, really bad." Sam grimaced in pain and tried to roll over to curl around the excruciating feeling.

Al would have liked nothing better than for someone to come along at that exact moment, take over, and make everything all right. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen. "Okay, Sam, first things first. We need to get your shoulder back in place. Do you trust me to do it again?"

"Yeah," Sam forced out. "Trust you."

"Okay. I'm gonna have to sit you up to do it." Al put his words into action helping Sam into a sitting position. This time he didn't even bother counting before grabbing Sam's arm and tugging it back into place. There seemed to be less resistance before he felt it slip back into the joint than there had the first time it had dislocated. He guessed it must be because of the Bankart's lesion Sam had told him about.

When his shoulder slipped back into place, Sam let out a scream that was bit off at the end. Al was fully prepared for a repeat of the first time he'd popped the joint back into the place but this time Sam simply slumped over to lean against his chest.

"I'm cold," Sam complained pushing into Al's chest seeking warmth.

Al wrapped his arms around Sam rubbing up and down his right arm briskly. "You think if I helped you up you could walk. You might feel warmer if you start moving around?"

"No," Sam disagreed shaking his head weakly where it leaned against Al's chest. "Can't. Hurts too much."

Al cupped his hand to the back of Sam's head and rubbed lightly up and down his back with the other. He was loathed to do anything to bring more pain than Sam already was enduring but they couldn't continue to stay at the bottom of the ice field. The longer they were in one place the less likely it was that they'd fine help. "I know you're hurting right now, Sam and I know you're feeling pretty bad but we need to keep moving so we can get you some help. You think you can do it if I help you? We still have some daylight left and if we keep moving we'll be that much closer to help."

"Okay," Sam whispered. "Help me up."

Al helped Sam up but he only attained vertical for a short time before slumping in Al's arms.

"Whoa, let's get you back down," Al quickly said gently lowering Sam back down the ground.

"I'm sorry, Al," Sam panted around the pain again leaning into Al's chest. "I can't do it." He stopped for a moment and then said, "I'm so tired."

"Okay, Kid. It's okay. You tried." Al looked up to the sky gauging how much daylight there still was before coming to a decision. "It's really not too early for us to stop for the night. I'll get the tent up, the sleeping bags out and get you tucked inside, and you can have a nice sleep. How about that? I bet if you have a good night's sleep you'll be all set to go in the morning. That sound good?" Al knew the likelihood at this point of Sam being able to go anywhere now or when morning came was almost nil but he wanted to do what he could to keep Sam's hopes alive.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll just sleep for a little while." Somewhere back in Sam's mind, he knew that Al was lying but he didn't care. He grasped at his friend's assurances, hanging onto them, knowing if he didn't, it would be too easy to give in.

Al carefully lowered Sam to lie down unsure he could continue sitting without his support and then climbed to his feet. "Okay, good. You just lie down for now. I'm gonna go ahead just a little bit and set up the campsite and then I'll come back for you. Try to stay awake until I come back."

Grabbing up the two packs Al hurried ahead hoping he wouldn't have to go far to find a suitable spot. For the first time in what felt like forever luck must have been on their side. Not 20 yards ahead of them was a perfect place for him to set up the tent. He made short work of it throwing Sam's thermarest and sleeping bag inside to puff up before going back to get Sam and bring him over to the tent.

When he got back over to where he'd left Sam, he found him curled up nearly in a fetal position, shivering. He slipped an arm under his shoulders helping him to sit up. "Hey, good news, I found us a really nice campsite right close by. It's nice and sheltered from the wind and it's gonna be a real good place to hole up tonight. I just need you to stand up just for a few minutes 'til I can get you over to it."

"'M so cold, Al," Sam's teeth chattered and his voice was little more than a mumble but he allowed Al to pull him to his feet. He swayed dangerously and came close to crashing right back down to the ground. Only Al's arms around his waist kept him up. Al maneuvered him so that he could get himself under Sam's arm to support him with one arm around his waist. It was painfully slow to move the few yards they had to travel. Sam had to stop once to throw up, but he accepted Al's help in leading him again afterward. Al managed to get Sam over to the tent before he collapsed to the ground again.

Again Sam complained of being cold as he leaned over to rest his forehead against Al's shoulder. "I know, Sammy, I know. We're gonna get you inside now and get you warmed up."

It was awkward but Al soon had Sam in the tent and stripped the waterproof pants and his coat off of him. He tucked the still shivering man into the mummybag. Sam huddled down into the warmth it provided. He was still shaking.

Al rummaged in Sam's pack and pulled out the first aid kit. Opening it up next to him, he loosened the cord from the face opening on the mummybag. Sam had pulled it tight, allowing only a small breathing hole. "Sam, I want to clean up these scratches and cuts on your face and see if any of them need to be covered, okay?"

When he didn't get any response he ripped open a gauze pad, soaked it in antiseptic and began to clean out the wounds as gently as he could. As it turned out, none of them were deep enough to need to be covered so he just spread a thin coating of antibiotic ointment over them. The most response he'd gotten out of Sam during the entire process was the slightest of flinches but that was it. He also noticed how much warmer he was. The slight fever he'd been carrying the past couple of days had gone up.

Having finished cleaning out the scratches and cuts, Al again rummaged through the first aid kit pulling out the bottle of Tylenol. With any luck, it would not only make the pain from Sam's injuries more bearable but would also help to lower the fever he was now running. He cursed silently when he opened the bottle to see that only four of the capsules remained. He was torn between giving all four to Sam now or giving him two now and holding off two for later. Finally he decided to have Sam take them all in one shot. At least that would hopefully provide him some relief from the pain. If he spaced it out giving two now and two later it probably wouldn't have made much of a dent in his injured friend's level of pain. At least this way Sam would be comfortable, or at least somewhat comfortable, for a little while.

Once Sam had taken the Tylenol and drank a little water, Al re-zipped the mummy bag. He sat beside him for a while until he thought he'd finally fallen asleep before making a move to exit the tent. As soon as he did, Sam's head came up and he focused his glassy-eyed gaze on Al. "Are you leaving?" he asked.

"No, I'm just going outside. I need to get us more water. Put your head down and rest." Al placed his hand on Sam's head and exerted gentle pressure until he lay back down. "I'll be back in a little while," he said before exiting from the tent.

Grabbing up the nearly empty water bottles, Al headed for stream they'd been following to refill them. He hadn't lied when he told Sam he was going for more water. He'd just neglected to tell him that he had to go out and do something before the magnitude of the situation caused him start screaming. If they'd been in bad shape before, this was much, much worse. He could see just in the short time since the fall that Sam's condition was worsening and there'd be no way the kid would be able to continue in the morning. Al would have no choice but to leave Sam here in the tent and go ahead himself. He only hoped he'd be able to get back with help before it was too late.

Having pumped the water from the stream through the filter to clean it of any impurities, Al sealed the tops of the bottles. Once that was done, he pulled out the camp stove, lit it, and started to boil some water. As little as he'd had for lunch and the fact that Sam's stomach had emptied, an early dinner would be welcome. He doubted he'd be able to tempt Sam to eat much, if any but it was still worth the try. Al also reasoned that the sooner he got some sleep the better shape he'd be in when he set out at first light to get down the mountain and find the help that Sam so desperately needed.

A few minutes later, the food was prepared. He tried to get Sam to eat a few bites but the offer was refused. Al tried to convince him that he needed it to keep up his strength. Sam's eyes were still glazed but his words were clear. "No, Al. If I eat, I'll probably just throw up again and then I could end up choking. It's better if I don't eat anything right now. Honestly, I'm really feeling pretty nauseated so I know it'll just come right back up. Just let me rest. I'm just so tired."

Al nodded and ate what he could of the food. He didn't want to waste the dwindling supply and he knew he needed to heed his own advice. He was going to need to keep his strength up if he was going to be able to keep the dream from becoming a reality. Sam Beckett was not going to die in 1987. Not on his watch.

He suddenly heard the sound of an engine. Sam seemed unaware of the sound. "Be right back, Sam." He headed out of the tent and looked up. There was a small plane obviously flying in the direction where the plane had crashed. It had to be the search and rescue plane. Al thought about his options. At this point, he wished he had that computer that Sam said he was going to build that could figure probabilities. He could use a little help.

He figured that even though the plane was a distance away, he could send up a flare. He went to the pack and retrieved one, setting it off. He watched as the flare rose into the air hoping against hope that the pilot would see it. His heart fell as he watched the plane head out of sight. Well, it had been a grasp at straws and he knew it. He sat down on a rock and just thought about the situation and what could be done.

He could wait with Sam and hope that S&R would find the plane and follow Sam's directions to their location. He knew they had left the crash sight as visible as they could, but the fuselage was under heavy tree cover and might not be seen. Sam needed medical attention very soon and their food was running out. Al couldn't take the risk. Right now, the best chance was to find a trail and follow it back to the trailhead. Hopefully, he'd run into someone and they would be able to help him get Sam the help he needed.

Al went back into the tent, planning to head out early the next morning. He saw that Sam was asleep. He felt his forehead and noted that the temperature had gone down a bit after the Tylenol took effect. He was concerned that Sam didn't stir although he knew by the steady up and down of Sam's chest that he was alive.

He prepared as much as he could for the next morning and then crawled into his mummy bag. He closed his eyes but was too keyed up to get much sleep and, at best, he just drifted. At about four o'clock in the morning, he decided he'd had enough. The longer he stayed with Sam, the longer it might be before he got him the help he needed. He decided he should head out soon.

Al wasn't being quiet but Sam continued to sleep. He knew this was more of a sign of Sam's injuries then a simple desire to sleep. He got everything ready to go, including putting food and water close enough for Sam to reach if he needed it. Then he shook him. "Sam?"

Sam tried to push Al away. "Tired. Leave me alone," was the mumbled answer.

"Sam, I'm going to have to leave."

Sam opened his eyes and Al saw fear in them. "No. You can't leave. You promised you wouldn't."

Al rested a calming hand on the side of Sam's face rubbing his thumb back and forth along his cheekbone. The fact that the flesh beneath his hand was once more warm with the heat of fever only served to spur him on to do what he could to get help for Sam. Before he could do that, though, he had to allay Sam's fears and make him understand why he had to go on ahead. "Sam, you've said it yourself more than a few times on this trip, you're a doctor. You know if I don't find some help for you soon, this adventure isn't going to turn out with a happy ending. There's no way you can walk out of here now."

Sam nodded looking up at Al with wide, glassy eyes. "I know. I just don't want you to leave."

"The way I see it, Sam, I don't have a whole hell of a lotta choice. Leaving you alone here isn't something I want to do but I've got to if you're gonna make it." He stopped, looking at Sam's puppy face. "I will come back, Sam. As soon as I find some help. You gotta hang on for me though." He realized that Sam was at the end of his emotional rope. The evidence came in the form of tears that began to leak from Sam's eyes. "Ah, Sammy, don't do that," he quietly begged brushing the tears from Sam's cheeks. Trudy used to cry the same way.

Sam made an effort to pull himself together. "I...I'm trying not to, Al. But I'm scared I won't ever see you again."

"You listen to me, Sam Beckett. You are going to get off this mountain. Alive. God as my witness, I'm not gonna let you die. You just gotta have faith and hang on." He paused a moment, then added, "You don't want to make a liar of me, do you?"

A slight smile crossed Sam's lips. "No. Can't have that." Despite the small smile, his voice was still unsteady and the fear in it was easily heard.

"I tell you what, Kid," Al said pulling a ring from his finger and holding it up to Sam's gaze. "You hang on to this for me and then you'll know I'll be back." He pressed the ring into Sam's hand closing his fingers around it. "You have my word, Sam. I'll be back for you."

"I know, Al. Just be careful…please. Please come back. I want you to come back."

"I will, Sammy. I promise. I'll be back as soon as I find help," Al responded sincerely.

Sam held his arm out seeking the comfort of an embrace. Gently Al slipped his arms under Sam lifting him up slightly against his chest. He felt Sam pull to him and suddenly was again reminded of how Trudy would cling to him the same way, especially when she was scared. He hugged Sam back and with a shaky but soothing tone, he told Sam, "You just sleep as much as you can. There's water and some granola bars right here for when you want them. I know you may not want to eat but make sure you're at least drinking water. I'm heading out now but I'll be back before you know it." He felt Sam pull into him again and although it hurt him, he extricated himself from Sam's grasp.

Sam looked into Al's eyes again, fear darting from them. Al met the gaze with his own, his heart breaking that he had to leave Sam like this, fevered and, to be truthful, possibly dying. "I'm coming back, Sam, and you can take that to the bank. You've got to trust me." The younger man nodded as Al gently lowered him to lie back down. Al could feel Sam's eyes watching him as he headed out of the tent.

The dawn was still working its way into the sky when Al emerged from the tent. He walked a ways and then looked back, seeing the orange tent and swearing again that his friend would pull through. "Hang on Sam. I'm gonna bring back the cavalry."


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

After Al left the tent, Sam lay very still looking at the space he'd disappeared through. "He'll be back. I know he'll be back," he softly reassured himself. After another few minutes, he rolled over the best he could onto his side and opened his hand to look at the ring he'd been holding on tightly to. It was Al's Naval Academy ring. In all the time he'd known him, Sam could never remember seeing Al without the ring on his finger. For a brief moment, the memory came back to Sam of his brother wearing the same ring after he'd graduated from Annapolis. He knew how much this one meant to Al and that he'd used it as tangible evidence of the promise he'd made spoke volumes to Sam.

He slipped the ring onto the ring finger of his right hand for safekeeping but quickly realized that wouldn't work. Evidently his fingers were smaller than Al's were, something he'd never given any thought to. The ring sat loosely and was in danger of falling off. Not wanting to risk losing something that meant so much to Al, he switched it to his middle finger where the fit was better.

Getting as comfortable as he could, he closed his eyes to sleep. With any luck by the time he woke up Al would be back with help. He knew he'd need that help as soon as he could get it. He was under no illusion that the fall hadn't made the bruising to his kidney worse. The one time Al had helped him out to a tree earlier there'd been much more blood than what he'd seen at any time since the crash. He knew the hematuria was worsening along with the injury. Based on the over all sick feeling he had it was a pretty good guess that the kidney had been injured enough so that the impurities it was supposed to remove from his blood were being released back into his body. If he were lucky and got medical help soon they'd be able to save his injured left kidney.

A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped him as he drifted off to sleep. The more detached portion of his brain where his medical knowledge was stored had supplied the fact that humans could live perfectly normal lives with only one kidney. Of course, that would mean surviving this mountain first. He prayed that that would happen, but also added that at the least he wanted to see Al again. He slipped off to sleep, that prayer in his mind.

0000000

Al was making good time since he'd left Sam back at the tent. Several times he'd heard the plane circling overhead but he'd been too far under the cover of trees for the flares he carried to do any good. The second time he'd heard the plane had been about 20 minutes after he'd left. He'd debated backtracking to Sam with the hope that the S&R plane would be able to see the emergency flare if he used it there but he quickly discarded the idea. Although he'd set up the campsite in a natural clearing, by the time he got back the plane would be long gone with no telling how long before it would fly overhead again. It was too risky a chance and he'd pressed on ahead.

Daylight had now well and truly broken and with it he was able to pick up his speed without having to worry about stumbling over anything in the shadowy half-light of dawn. He was confident that he'd pick up a trail soon, a real trail, and he'd find someone else hiking along that trail. If he were really lucky, whoever he found would have some kind of radio with them and they could call for help that much faster. If not he'd have to tack on the extra time to get back to civilization before he could make the call.

Sam hadn't looked at all well when he'd left. During the night he'd helped him out to a tree and Sam had told him the bleeding from his kidney was getting worse. He'd wrestled with the decision to leave Sam alone but there had honestly been no other choice. It was either leave the kid alone and bring help to him or sit there with him and watch him as he slowly bled to death. Al wasn't going to do that. There was no way in hell he'd just sit by and let his dream become a reality. Some dreams weren't meant manifest themselves and this was one of them.

0000000

Sam was awake but he just didn't have the wherewithal to open his eyes. He had no idea how long he'd been sleeping but he had a feeling it had been for a while. He was still so tired, though, and he felt so sick. Even worse, he was thirsty. So very, very thirsty.

"Al?" he called out hoarsely and inwardly winced when he realized how weak his voice sounded. He licked at his lips but there wasn't enough moisture to wet them.

He waited for a few moments and when Al didn't answer or come in to him, he tried again, his voice again croaking. "Al? I'm thirsty, Al."

Again he waited and again there was no answer. _Where's Al gone to?_ he wondered. _Why won't he answer me?_

Finally he forced his eyes open. The first thing that caught his attention was the dull glint of gold on his hand. He raised his hand up to his eyes to look carefully at it and recognized Al's Naval Academy ring. The sight of the ring brought back the memory that Al was gone. He'd had to go ahead…_not leave – he didn't leave me_… to get help while Sam stayed behind with the tent. He'd given Sam the ring as a reminder that he'd be back.

"I'm still thirsty," he said aloud just to say something and break the silence.

Lifting his head up, he saw the water bottles that Al had left for him. He unzipped the sleeping bag, reached out, and snagged one of the bottles. He pushed himself up to drink the water but it felt like one of the most difficult tasks he'd ever had to do. He felt such pain in his shoulder and back. His head swam with dizziness and he was only able to stay up long enough to take a couple of sips from the bottle. Once done drinking, he capped it carefully and put it with the other bottles. He didn't know how long it would take Al to get back with help so he had to make sure he conserved what he had.

He looked at the granola bars that were near the water bottles but just the thought of attempting to eat them made his stomach roll over. He'd barely had the energy to sit up and drink the water – he'd never have the energy to make it outside of the tent if his stomach decided to rebel and getting sick in the tent just wasn't an option, not to mention the very real possibility he could choke on his own vomit. No, it was better that he just didn't eat and tempt anything. Eventually he'd have to figure out a way to make it outside for other functions.

Slumping back down he re-zipped the sleeping bag to keep as much warmth in it as he could. He was shaking with chills but he couldn't decide if that was due to the temperature, the fact that he was running a fever, or because he was getting shocky. The analytical part of his mind answered that it was most likely some combination of the three.

He came to the assumption that since it was still light in the tent, although a dim light, he hadn't slept the day away. He remembered that it had still been fairly dark in the tent when Al left since dawn was still just breaking. It had been a while, though, that he'd been asleep. He was assuming, of course, that it was the same day. He had no idea how much time had actually passed.

His thought of the time elapsed brought him back to his earlier thought of eventually having to leave the tent to relieve himself. If he'd been sleeping for as long as he suspected, that amount of time added to the time that had gone by since Al had helped him out before was a significant span of time. By now he should have to go outside but he didn't have to. The small part of his brain that refused to give into fear, pain and illness but instead chose to remain coldly clinical continued to supply answers for him. His kidney must be so badly damaged that it couldn't do its job properly.

There was nothing he could do about it, he decided and put the thought from his mind. He still wasn't feeling any warmer despite being zipped into the sleeping bag. He unzipped it long enough to reach out and grab his coat and spread that on top of the sleeping bag hoping it would provide just a little more warmth.

Just before he re-zipped the bag, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out the note from his father. He caressed the note a moment before holding it close to him, re-zipping the bag and trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. He was so tired still and he didn't think it would be long before sleep reclaimed him.

He was right and within minutes he started to drift off toward sleep. "Please hurry, Al. I don't know how much time I have left," he whispered just before slipping completely off.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Al spent the day following the stream. He pushed ahead, knowing that the faster he moved, the more ground he'd cover. He was thankful that there had been no more drop offs. By the time the sun was setting, he figured he was miles away from Sam.

Through the day, all he could think of as he walked along in solitude was finding someone to help Sam. He'd never seen the kid this hurt - although he'd seen men suffer equally damaging injuries while in Vietnam. He'd seen too many of them reach triage too weak to be saved although the medical corps did everything they could to save them if there was any hope.

When he stopped to think about the fact that someone had obviously tampered with the engine, he became dreadfully angry. Sam Beckett was a good and decent human being. Why anyone would decide to cause an accident to kill him was beyond Al's comprehension. He was just a man with a dream. Al swore that if he ever found out who did this, they would suffer for their attempt.

Seeking a place to stop for the night, he found a small depression in a rock face. It was large enough to pull himself into and would provide some protection from the wind. He wondered how Sam was doing in the tent. He knew he'd left him food and water but wondered how he would handle taking care of his other bodily needs. He turned his attention to getting himself set for the night, trying to use the mundane tasks to keep his concern for Sam from driving him mad. There was literally nothing he could do at this minute one way or the other. Sam's only hope was for him to maintain his focus and strength. After boiling some water and making up the last freeze-dried entree, he ate in silence. He again thought back to Sam and hoped he was resting. He reasoned that maybe the rest would do as much good this time as the one Sam had a few days before. Then again, Sam hadn't been as hurt then. He again stopped his mind from going in that direction.

Al tried to force himself to sleep knowing he needed the rest to be able to push as hard the next day as he had today. He spent a restless few hours dozing on and off but never really falling into a deep sleep. The dream kept replaying through his mind. He'd come to terms with Trudy's death years ago even though he would always feel the guilt of not getting her out in time. There was simply nothing he could do to change anything where she was concerned. Sam was a different matter. Finally he made the decision to press on using the full moon for light. That way he could continue to move forward, perhaps finding someone a little sooner. He had to take it slow, however, since he didn't want to fall and injure himself. At this point he was Sam's only lifeline. If anything happened to him, Sam would be truly alone and was unlikely to survive.

A little ways further, he noticed a trail crossing the stream. It was a well-trod trail and Al decided to check it out. He went first one direction but it doubled back a bit and followed parallel to the stream he'd been following going back the way he came. He went back to the stream and headed down the trail in the other direction. The sun was coming up and Al saw a beautiful glow in the sky through the trees.

As he came around a bend, a beam of morning light illuminated a wooden sign and he fell to his knees, crying with joy. The sign clearly pointed the way to the trailhead. He only had four miles to hike. He pulled himself up and headed down the trail in a steady walk.

About a half hour later, he heard the sound of voices. Coming around a bend were two hikers, a man and a woman who looked to be in their thirties. Al rushed up to them. "Oh thank God! Do either of you have a radio?"

The two hikers looked at Al with wide eyes and he suddenly realized what he must look like. "I was in a plane crash a week ago. We've been trying to get off the mountain."

The woman looked at him strangely, "We?"

"Yeah. My buddy's hurt bad. I had to leave him in our tent some distance back and I have to get him medical help as fast as I can." He repeated his plea, "Do either of you have a radio?"

"Um, no, but the car isn't that far back," the man answered gesturing down the trail in the direction they'd come from. "We could drive you to the nearest town."

"No, Charlie," the woman disagreed. "There's a ranger station just a ways back. We can stop there. It'll be quicker."

"You're right, Melissa."

"Let's get going, then," Al urged.

The three headed back to the trailhead, reaching it in a half hour. They hadn't really talked a lot finding that they either could move quickly or talk. Al told them he'd give them the full story later but he had to get medical help for Sam now. When they arrived at the trailhead, Charlie took their packs and threw them in the trunk. Al got in the back.

"So, you crashed a week ago?" Charlie asked as he started the car and put it in drive. "I heard something on the news about that. That with the weather they hadn't been able to send up the planes very much. They were asking for people to be on the lookout."

"Yeah. We heard the planes the last day or so," Al said. "I guess it's possible they could find Sam before I get back. I hope so."

Turning to face Al in the backseat Melissa added, "They had one of your mothers on the news as well. She was asking anyone who might be going into the area to help find her son and his friend. She looked a bit frantic."

"That would be Thelma Beckett. Her son is my friend, Sam Beckett."

"That's right. That was her name. She showed a picture of Sam. She didn't have one of you."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Al said. When he saw the confusion on Melissa's face he clarified, "We haven't always seen eye to eye. I've got a feeling this little adventure won't be giving her any warm and fuzzy feelings where I'm concerned."

"I'm sure she'll just be grateful that you're both alive," Melissa tried to comfort.

Before Al could begin to form a reply or even begin to think that there was a chance that Sam might not be alive, the car suddenly came to a stop and he realized that they were at the Ranger station. He thanked Charlie and Melissa and ran up to the building. The station wouldn't open for another half hour but Al didn't care. He started pounding on the door and yelling for someone to open up. Charlie and Melissa at first watched from the car, but then they both got out and started pounding and yelling as well. A few minutes later, an angry male Ranger walked up to the door. "Can't you see the sign?" he yelled through the closed door. "We don't open for a half hour."

Al was in no mood for this. "I see the sign and I don't give a rat's ass what it says! My friend and I are the two men whose plane went down in the mountains a week ago that you've been looking for! I have to get him some help! He could be dying out there!"

The Ranger's attitude changed immediately and he quickly opened the door. He called to the local sheriff's office and they promised to send a flight for life helicopter right away. As soon as Al knew help was coming, he suddenly saw stars and headed to the floor. He barely felt one of the men catch him. It felt good to know he might still fulfill his promise to the kid.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Sam was awake again. It was just one of many times he'd woken up since Al went to find help. Each time he'd had to struggle to remember where Al had gone and why he was alone. This time was no exception. He forced himself to drink a little water each time he was awake vaguely remembering a promise to do so. He was careful to conserve what he had not knowing how long he'd be alone and when Al might come back with more. As time went by things became more and more muddled.

"I need to find Al," he muttered unzipping the sleeping bag and pushing it away. The chills of earlier were forgotten as he felt consumed by fire. "He needs my help." He rolled over and pushed himself up to his knees awkwardly with the use of only one arm. He looked down curiously where his left arm was bound firmly to his chest and rested in a sling. It was aching fiercely and had been for quite a while. He knew if the pain would just stop for just a few seconds he'd be able to remember why. There had to be a reason why…and why did Al go again?

"He didn't go anywhere," he mumbled out loud. "He left me. He said he wouldn't leave but he did. Everyone always leaves. First Tommy and then Daddy and…and…" He raked his fingers back through his hair trying to remember the name. Why were things getting so muddled? Why couldn't he think straight? "Donna," he finally said. "Her name's Donna and she left me too 'cause she didn't love me…or she didn't love me enough. I don't remember. Now Al's gone. I don't want him to leave like everyone else does."

He started to crawl towards the entrance to the tent. "He's not gonna leave me. I'm gonna find him and bring him back. I need him…he needs me."

Sam emerged from the tent and climbed awkwardly to his feet. It never occurred to him that he had on neither shoes nor coat and he didn't seem to feel the chill in the air. He was bound and determined to find Al and bring him back.

He managed to make it a distance from the tent before he collapsed down to his knees and fell over onto his side. He felt himself slip down a slope. It was steep but steady and he soon came to a halt. He tried to get up but had no strength and collapsed face down on a sand bar. "I'm sorry, Al. I'm so sorry. I tried." He tried once more to push up but could barely move. He fell back exhausted. The coolness of the ground soothed the heat of his body. He gave up to the feeling pulling him into oblivious thought, finding that lying still eased him into a peacefulness that called to him like a siren's song. There was a single thought before he finally surrendered. "Why'd you leave me?" he asked in a plaintive whisper before losing consciousness.

0000000

Al awoke as he felt himself being placed on transport gurney. He opened his eyes and noticed two men in blue uniforms, obviously EMT's. Pushing the one who was trying to strap him onto the gurney away, he cried, "What the hell are you doing? I'm not the one who needs this! Sam's the one who needs you, not me! We've got to go get him before it's too late!"

The EMT's voice came out with studied calmness. "Sir, you've been in the mountains for a week now. We need to check you out."

Al forced himself to be calm, knowing that he had to convince these men to listen to him. "I'm telling you, I'm not the one that needs your services right now. I've been a lot worse off than this. I survived then and I'll survive now but Sam might not if we don't get to him and soon." He threw his legs over the side and stood up. "Now, let's get that bird in the air and go get him."

The EMT tried to pull the man back to the gurney, "Sir, I don't think…"

Al turned and with a bit of heat in his voice, stated, "You're right. If you don't understand that helping Sam is a matter of life or death you're not thinking." Noticing the EMT looking at him skeptically, he rubbed his hands across his face and he continued, forcing himself to proceed with a calmer voice, "When we landed, Sam was almost crushed by the collision. His shoulder dislocated and he said he believed his kidney was bruised and that he likely had a grade three concussion. After he slid down the ice field…"

Hearing the injuries described, the second EMT asked, "Wait a minute, that's pretty specific medically. How does he know all this and when did he slide down the ice field?"

"He's a doctor, that's how he was able to diagnose himself. We hit the ice field a little less then two days ago. He hit some boulders on the way down. His shoulder popped out again and I think he bruised the kidney worse. He couldn't walk out so I had to leave him in the tent. When I left him, he didn't look too good. He said something about the hematuria getting worse. I guess that means the bleeding. We've got to get to him now. There isn't time for anything else and definitely no time to be talking about it."

The first EMT again tried to get the man in front of him to accept help from them. "We can take you to the hospital and then go out for him."

Using his most commanding military voice, Al was adamant. "No! I'm going with you. I know where he is. I promised him I'd come back and no one is going to keep me from keeping that promise."

The EMT's looked at each other. Finally, the second one nodded. "I think this guy's stable enough. It would help in the rescue if he were with us and could show us exactly where to go. If the guy's in as bad a shape as he says, we'd better get there as quickly as we possibly can. Any help he can give us with location is gonna buy his friend time."

Al breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Now let's get this show on the road!" They all climbed into the copter and headed up into the sky. Al told them the trail he'd been on was the Vallecito Creek trail, as he'd noted the name at the trailhead. The pilot quickly located the right direction and they threaded their way back along the route that Al indicated.

Al looked down at the distance he'd traversed. He figured it must be a good twenty to twenty-five miles. It took them a little over twenty minutes to get back to where he'd left Sam. He saw the orange of the tent and pointed it out to the EMT. There was a larger clearing about 150 feet from the camp. The pilot landed the helicopter and the three men in the back piled out, the two EMT's carrying their equipment.

Al was in the lead and as he approached the tent. "Sam!" he yelled out. "I'm back, pal! I told you I'd come back!" He was concerned when he didn't get an answer. Reaching the tent, he looked inside and was shocked.

The water looked as if it had been used. One of the bottles was empty and a second one was no longer full. The granola bars hadn't been touched. What really upset Al, though, was his friend's absence.

He headed out of the tent, frantic, eyes wild. "Sam! Where are you? Oh God, Sam! I told you to stay put!"

The first EMT, whose name Al had learned was Eric, grabbed Al firmly by the shoulder. "Sir? Your friend isn't here?"

"No! I don't know where he is. He was in bad shape when I left him. He couldn't have gone too far."

The EMT continued. "There are bears and mountain lions around here. It's possible if he came out of the tent he could have been dragged off by one of them."

Al shook his head emphatically. "No way! I don't believe that. I just can't. Maybe one of the search planes I heard fly by spotted him. Maybe he's already been found. Maybe he just got disoriented. I'm not leaving here until we check the area thoroughly."

The second EMT, Kevin agreed. "All right. We'll check the area and I'll radio in to see if he's been picked up. No use coming this far into the Weminuche without giving him every possible chance."

The pilot, Jim, joined them in the search after radioing in to see if another search party had located Sam. Unfortunately, they hadn't. They were just about to give up when Eric yelled out, "He's over here!"

The others came running. Sure enough, Sam had come to the edge of the creek bed and slipped down the bank. He lay sprawled, face down, on a small sand bar next to the creek. During run off in the spring, he would have been underwater, but now, in the autumn, the water level had dropped. Although it would have been a cold place to lay, especially since he didn't have a coat or shoes on, his location didn't pose any other major problem except that they would have to use the cage transport to pull him up the steep side of the creek bank.

Eric was the first to reach him checking for a pulse to ascertain that he was alive. When Kevin aimed a questioning look to him, Eric nodded, indicating the presence of a pulse. The concern on his face indicated his worry though as he gently ran his hands down Sam's limbs checking to see if he could feel any breaks. Kevin and Jim headed back to get the equipment they would need to pull Sam out of the area.

"Sam?" Al asked softy. "Oh God, Kid now what? You've got to wake up, you hear me?"

As if heeding the command in Al's voice, Sam's eyes fluttered open and his unfocused gaze fell on Al. He murmured something but Al wasn't able to make out what he said. Bending down over Sam, he encouraged him to repeat what he'd said.

"Kept it safe," Sam forced out and held his hand out to Al. It was only then that Al noticed the glint of dull gold on Sam's finger and gently wrapped his hand around Sam's too cold fingers.

"It's gonna be okay, now, Kid. You hang on."

Sam kept his unfocused gaze on Al for another few seconds before his eyes slid shut and unconsciousness claimed him again.

Eric gently pushed Al back so that he'd have room to work on Sam.

Al stood back looking down at his buddy. His heart was happy to see his friend alive again, but knew that if he'd come this far from the tent, he'd probably been delirious. The lack of the coat and shoes supported that thought as well. He noticed that Sam's skin had taken on a grayish tint. Sam might be alive, but he'd definitely gone downhill in a hurry after Al had left. "Is he going to make it?" he asked anxiously.

"We're going to do everything we can." Eric looked up at Al, taking his focus off Sam for a moment. "I won't lie to you. He's in really bad shape. He's awfully close to full-blown hypothermia. I'm surprised he was even conscious for those few seconds. I've confirmed the other injuries you told us about." He paused for just a beat before adding, "If we hadn't reached him when we did, I'd say this would have been a body recovery. Now, at least, there's hope."

Al nodded, grim faced. Jim and Kevin had returned with the equipment to move Sam. Kevin and Eric made sure that Sam's neck was immobilized in a neck brace and he was strapped down on a backboard before they moved him into the cage transport. They strapped him down and closed the cage. This would provide protection as they pulled him up the bank. Al's eyes followed their progress, watching as the medical professionals did their jobs, knowing that if Sam was going to survive this, it was in their hands now.

Al turned around to look at the place where his friend had lain. He hoped Sam hadn't been there too long. He suddenly saw a bit of white among the yellow aspen leaves and bent to pick it up. It was the page from Sam's book. He unfolded it, looking at the script. "Aw Sam! I'll just keep this safe for you, buddy." He refolded it carefully and put it in the pocket of his wool shirt, buttoning down the flap. The kid would want this when he awoke.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Noting that the cage had reached the top of the creek back, Al headed up the slope and saw that the EMT's were heading toward the helicopter in a run, carrying the cage between them. He picked up the pace himself drawing on the dwindling supply of energy that had sustained him through the last couple of days. He suddenly felt old, even though he was only 53. He thought about the people he had lost through the years and was afraid he'd been too late this time, just as he always seemed to be. He was too late for his Dad, for Trudy, for Lisa, for Beth. He hoped against hope he hadn't been too late today.

He climbed into the back of the copter, watching the dance of the emergency medical treatments. Sam's clothes were quickly cut from his body; an IV was expertly inserted into his vein; the instruments designed to tell the EMT's at a moments glance the status of the patient were hooked up; various checks were made on his vital signs including temperature, pupil reaction, and pulse. Through it all, Sam never made another sound, never made the slightest indication that there was anyone there. Right now Al wished for the fireworks he'd seen from Sam during the past week. Anything that would let him know Sam would be okay.

The helicopter had taken off and yet Al barely acknowledged the sensation. His focus, as that of the two EMT's, was firmly on one man. He listened to the humming and beeping of the equipment monitoring Sam's life signs. He noticed the EMT's looking over to the heart monitor and suddenly understood why. He may not have understood exactly what he was seeing but even he knew what was on the monitor wasn't normal - that something bad was happening.

"He's going into v-fib," Eric called out to Kevin.

Kevin went into action pulling out the defibrillator unit and handing the paddles over to Eric. He opened the tube of conducting gel and squeezed a generous portion onto the paddles.

Eric rubbed the two paddles together to spread the gel and watched the countdown on the machine until it indicated a charge. "Clear!" he yelled out just before shocking Sam.

Al watched in horror as Sam's body arced up from the shock he'd received. For a brief moment the lines on the cardiac monitor looked normal but it was just a few seconds. "No conversion," Eric said watching the monitor. "Let's shock him again."

Again he waited until the machine had charged before calling out clear and putting the paddles to Sam's chest again. This time the cardiac monitor showed one or two regular beats and then showed a flatline accompanied by a high, shrill alarm.

"No! Damn it! NO!!!!! You can't die, Beckett! Come on Sam! Don't you dare die on me! Don't make that damned dream real!" Al cried out in anguish.

"No pulse or respiration," Kevin said.

"Bag him," Eric yelled out and started chest compressions on Sam. They began performing CPR. They'd seen things that would have amazed most people. They'd seen people come back from the near brink. If this man could be saved, even with the monitors indicating no signs of life, they'd give him that chance. They'd try to pull the string back and hope that the end had not been reached.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

_He felt himself moving but how he wasn't sure. Hearing a gunshot, he turned and felt it enter his shoulder, causing searing pain. The force pushed him over and he was…Falling! He was falling from a great height and there was nothing he or anyone could do to stop the fall. He'd keep falling until he met the ground in a bone-breaking halt. When he hit the ground, everything would end. The ground came up suddenly and he was sure he'd feel pain as he hit the solid surface but he didn't._

Sam found himself floating and at peace. He looked down and was surprised that he was looking down from a height, but he wasn't afraid. His head tilted a bit as he took in the sight. There was Al, crying, a devastated posture to his body. He'd never known Al to cry before and wished he could take away whatever pain his friend was feeling at the moment. He noticed medical personnel working frantically, trying to save their patient. Sam had been there many times himself when he was performing his internship at Mass General. He looked closer at the patient.

He realized he was looking at himself, almost like looking into a mirror.

There was a shock in the recognition, but also an acceptance that this was as much a part of life as it was the ending of it. He turned away from the scene before him and noticed for the first time a bright tunnel of light. He headed towards it, feeling the warmth and caring emanating from it. It felt like home.

As he arrived at the entrance of the tunnel, he was surprised to see two forms heading out of it towards him. They seemed familiar somehow, and suddenly he knew why. It was his father and brother. Dad and Tom. He rushed to meet them, happiness filling his soul.

Tom put his hand up. "No Sam. It's not your time yet. You have to go back."

"I don't want to. I want to be with you and Dad."

The older man shook his head. "Your brother's right, Sam. There's more for you to do. The time will come for you, but not now."

Sam wanted to argue but the look on his father's face told him that this was not a battle to be fought. He tried anyway. "Please? Can't I stay?"

The two shook their heads. "No, Sam. Someday but not now. Go back. Go back and live," his father told him.

"There's too much for you do yet, Little Brother. Too many people need your help. We'll be waiting for you when it's your time."

Sam hesitated torn between acquiescing to his father and brother's wishes and returning to the pain that he knew awaited him or pushing on to this place of love and warmth. "I don't want to go back there. There's too much pain."

"I know Sam but you're strong and it will pass. Now's not your time, Sammy," his father said again. He paused a moment. "Let your mother know I miss her. She's still my best girl."

Sadly, Sam turned away. He headed back to the drama of that other plane of existence, the one he'd just left. He noted that Al was even worse then a few minutes before, his shoulders were heaving, his sobs wracking. He heard him crying, "No! I tried, Sam. I tried to keep my promise!"

He found himself in pain again, pain that was all encompassing. He felt the compressions on his chest, the air being forced into his lungs. He felt the spark ignite again. He opened his eyes for just a moment, looking into his friend's tear stained ones. He gave Al a lop-sided grin. Then there was nothing but blackness.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"No! Damn it! NO!!!!! You can't die, Beckett! Come on Sam! Don't you dare die on me! Don't make that damned dream real!"

The words sounded far away, although he knew he'd spoken them. Watching the flatline on the screen, watching almost in slow motion as the EMT's continued their work. Al was devastated. He'd promised the kid he'd get him out of this mess and now Sam was dead.

He watched detached as Eric and Kevin continued to work on his friend. The pilot, Jim relayed information back and forth with the hospital.

"Get me an amp of epi," Eric said after receiving new orders from hospital.

Kevin grabbed Al's shoulder and pulled him closer. "Take this and keep squeezing it," he said surrendering the ambu bag to Al. Al started squeezing the bag in the same rhythm that Kevin had been and tried to push as far from his mind as he could the fact that he was now breathing for Sam.

Kevin pulled the requested amp of epi from its place and handed it over to Eric before resuming his resuscitation efforts.

Once Kevin had again taken over the ambu bag Al again moved back out of the way. He blanched when he saw the size of the hypodermic Eric now had and looked away as it was plunged into Sam's chest.

Once the epi had been administered, Eric tossed the hypo out of his way and continued chest compressions keeping a careful watch on the cardiac monitor for any changes from the just administered epinephrine.

Tears flowed from Al's face and his shoulder's sagged. He'd felt this pain way too many times in his life and he didn't want to feel it now. Didn't want to feel it for the friend who had come to mean so much to him. The wracking sobs continued. "No! I tried, Sam. I tried to keep my promise!"

It was as if those words somehow affected the man who had been dead for the past two minutes. Suddenly the monitor registered life again. Al looked up and watched as the soft, green eyes of Sam Beckett suddenly opened, looking over to him. The kid threw a goofy grin in his direction that he barely made out through the mask covering his face and then younger man's eyes closed once more and he was unconscious again. He was alive, though, and that's what mattered.

"We've got a steady rhythm," Eric announced looking at the cardiac monitor.

Kevin pulled the mask from Sam's face and waited a moment but Sam didn't pull in a breath on his own. Kevin lowered the mask back to his face and continued to breathe for him.

The rest of the trip to the hospital was a near blur for Al. He did his best to stay as far out of Eric's and Kevin's way as he could and watched as they did all they could to ensure his friend's continued survival.

Once Sam's heart had started to beat again Eric radioed in to the hospital updating them on Sam's conditions. Orders were relayed that Al didn't understand and another IV was started in Sam's other arm. He watched as various drugs were injected into it. Stubbornly Sam continued not to breathe on his own and the hospital advised the EMT's to intubate him and continue breathing for him artificially.

Al finally spoke, his voice shaky but needing to know. "He's gonna be okay, right?"

"We don't know. From all indications, he's in a coma. If his kidney's been damaged badly enough it could be causing sepsis and that could put him in coma.

"Coma? Will he come out of it?"

"Coma's are weird things. They can last a short time measured in hours or a long time measured in years. There's absolutely no way of knowing how it's going to present. Best we can do is make sure he's stable and get him in to the doctors at the trauma center as fast as we can. Hopefully, he'll wake up once the worst of his injuries have been taken care of."

Al's heart was pulled in multiple directions again. He was ecstatically happy that Sam was alive. He was also incredibly saddened that his friend's life could be spent in a coma. It didn't seem fair that the mind that Dr. LoNigro had once told him was on par with Einstein's would be trapped that way. Suddenly, the thought of meeting Thelma Beckett at the hospital came to him. He knew he would have to face her, have to tell her that he'd done a lousy job of protecting her son. This was much worse then any sunburn could ever be and she'd almost handed him his head on a platter for that.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Almost before he realized it, they were landing on the roof of the hospital. Durango had a trauma center at Mercy Regional Medical Center. Sam was quickly pulled from the helicopter and was surrounded by the trauma team and taken away at a run. Al hurried along to keep up with them barely hearing and understanding the information and orders relayed between the awaiting medical team and EMT's. The one thing he did understand was the order to begin a blood transfusion right away using O negative blood until they'd typed and cross-matched Sam for the correct blood type.

As they headed past the doors, a woman's hand reached out to touch Sam, but he was swept away too quickly before she could do more than just barely graze his hair. Al turned to her looking into the worried eyes of Thelma Beckett.

He swallowed quickly unsure just what to tell the woman before finally walking up to her. "Hello, Mrs. Beckett," knowing his greeting was likely not one she wanted to hear.

"Admiral, what did you do to my son?" she demanded getting into Al's personal space.

Al looked down. "This was just a vacation trip gone horribly wrong, Ma'am. I'd never do anything that I knew would hurt Sam. You've gotta know that."

Thelma eyes held pain and anger. "What I know is that for the past week I haven't known whether my son was alive or not. Two days after they contacted me, I was on a flight from Hawaii. Did you know they tried to call off the rescue planes? They told me that most likely the two of you were dead with the weather and the time since the crash. I couldn't believe they would do that. I couldn't let them give up searching for Sam."

"I knew you wouldn't let them fail him, Ma'am."

"What happened?" Thelma demanded with steel in her voice.

Al didn't want to tell Thelma Beckett anymore then he'd wanted to tell Sam that the plane had been tampered with. He just decided to say the truth but not the whole truth. "The engine died. There wasn't anything I could do but set the plane down as safely as I could."

"It looks like it wasn't very safe for Sam. The staff here told me the EMT's radioed in Sam's condition. Concussion, dislocated shoulder, damaged kidney and he's in a coma? Tell me how that was safe, Admiral?" Her eyes narrowed, and Al was suddenly reminded of Sam when he was skeptical. "You seem to have come out of this remarkably fine."

"Yes Ma'am. Sam took the worst of the crash." He stopped, falling into a chair in the waiting area where they were talking. He dropped his head into his hands but then pulled his head up to meet her gaze, begging her with his eyes to believe him, his voice pleading for understanding. "I did everything I could, Mrs. Beckett. I know it wasn't enough but I swear to you, there wasn't anything I wouldn't do to make sure that Sam would be okay. There isn't anything I wouldn't give at this moment to trade places with him – to be the one in that room right now and not him."

She looked over to him, seeing a man who had been through the wringer as well. One thing she'd learned when Al had been with them after the wedding gone wrong was that he definitely tried to keep himself looking nice. A bit eccentric, perhaps, but nice. She thought of him as a bit of a dandy and figured he was most likely one of those people whose own happiness was their primary goal. Looking at him now though, a week's beard on his face, grime covered and disheveled she knew that he'd helped Sam survive. Of course, Sam wouldn't have had to survive anything if it hadn't been for this man in the first place.

The two lapsed into silence waiting to hear what condition Sam was in – would he live or die. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock above the door. Al kept glancing up at the clock watching the second hand sweep around again and again.

After they'd been waiting about 20 minutes, Thelma got up from her chair walking over to look out the window in the waiting room. She stared blankly out at the mountains not really seeing them and dabbing at the tears that came from her eyes with the tissue she held balled up in her hands. She was about to say something to Al when a doctor walked up to her. "Excuse me, are you Mrs. Beckett?"

"Yes."

"I'm Doctor Williams. I understand you are Sam Beckett's mother?"

"Yes I am. How is he, Doctor? Can I see him?"

"I'd like to discuss his condition with you." The doctor's manner indicated that he wanted to pull Thelma away somewhere more private.

Al looked at her, knowing he was begging but willing to do so under the circumstances. "Ma'am, I know this is a family matter now, but I'd appreciate it if I could hear how Sam is."

Thelma couldn't believe the gall of the man. He'd put her son into grievous danger and now thought he had some kind of right to intrude on a family matter. On the other hand, she had seen him with Sam after Donna left and knew that he was a good friend. Her being alone in Durango was also a drawback. Besides, he owed her son. She just hoped he'd have the decency to realize it. "That would be acceptable, Admiral," she said coming to the quick decision that he did have some kind of right to see the whole mess through to the end.

The doctor pulled the two of them to a secluded corner of the waiting area. He started describing what they had done to stabilize Sam, including putting him on massive doses of antibiotics. He told them that Sam would need immediate surgery to stop the internal bleeding from his damaged kidney and to give them any kind of chance of repairing the damage to it and saving him and, barring that, to remove the kidney. He didn't like the idea of operating while the man was in a coma but there was no choice. Without intervention, he would end up hemorrhaging to death and if the blood loss didn't get him first, the sepsis that likely caused the coma would. At best, even saving the kidney was 50/50. Thelma nodded and said that they needed to do whatever was likely to give Sam the best chance of pulling through.

Al was amazed by the strength of the woman. She didn't cry now, even though he'd seen her do just that after the botched wedding when she didn't think anyone saw her. The woman was a rock and he suddenly understood why Sam would be more afraid of his mother's reaction to ruining her vacuum cleaner then tearing down his father's tractor.

Dr. Williams also told them that Sam was being treated for hypothermia with his body temperature slowly being raised to acceptable levels. He did caution them that, due to the sepsis, it was very likely that Sam would start to run a very high fever very fast. He indicated the likelihood that the hypothermia may have helped save his life. As his body had gotten colder and started to shut down the bleeding from his kidney had probably slowed as well which provided him those extra few minutes for the EMT's to reach him.

The only good news appeared to be that the concussion he'd suffered was not problematic. X-rays had come back negative for any fractures and the CT scan also showed no abnormalities, bleeding, or swelling.

Once Sam was stabilized, an orthopedic surgeon would more thoroughly examine his shoulder and determine what, if any, further treatment would be needed for it. For now, the x-rays taken of it showed that there were no fractures despite the multiple dislocations and that it was positioned correctly.

The doctor told Thelma that forms would need to be signed and directed her to the office area to do so. Al went with her, providing the information for Sam's new insurance since StarBright had been cancelled. Sam had started up his own business and had submitted the proposal for Project Quantum Leap. He'd brought Al on as his partner and Al handled the financial aspects of the business, including the health insurance. Thelma gratefully accepted Al's help having no idea what kind of medical coverage her son had.

Once the paper work had been completed, they were directed to the surgical waiting room on the fourth floor and they headed there to wait until Sam was out of surgery.

After about the first fifteen minutes of waiting, Thelma suggested to Al that perhaps he might want to get himself cleaned up but he refused. He'd wait until Sam was out of surgery. He had to see him after this. He didn't tell Thelma, but at least a part of him was afraid that if he left the realities of the helicopter ride would rear their ugly head again. He couldn't risk it. When she said that at least part of her request was that Al hadn't cleaned up completely in seven days, he nodded and headed off to the restroom to clean up the best he could.

He stopped in the gift shop and picked up some toiletries and a new t-shirt. When he came out, he was again clean-shaven, hair combed neatly, and smelling, if not April fresh, at least not seven day stinky. Thelma looked up and nodded when she saw him. "Much better, Admiral. I don't think you'll be scaring off any hospital staff now."

"Thank you."

They sat in silence for the next couple of hours, both of them lost in their thoughts for the soul undergoing the continuing fight for his life. On one occasion Al left the waiting room long enough to retrieve a cup of coffee for himself as well as Thelma. Her quiet thanks were the only words spoken between the two of them while they waited.

Finally, Doctor Williams came out again. "The good news is that I had to do only a partial nephrectomy. Barring any complications, I see no reason to have to go back in and remove the rest of the kidney. The bleeding's also been stopped."

"And the bad news," Al prompted.

"The bad news is that he's still in a coma and he's still not breathing on his own. It's my hope that once we get the sepsis under control, the coma will resolve. There are no guarantees, though, if or when he'll wake up. I also want to let you know there is a possibility if he does wake up that there may be some residual damage. From the reports of the EMT's, he was without a heartbeat and spontaneous respiration for about 2-3 minutes. We won't know what, if any, lasting effects there are from that until he's conscious and can be evaluated."

"You're talking about brain damage, aren't you?" Al bluntly asked.

"Yes, I am," Dr. Williams answered. "Like I said, we have to consider it a possibility that could happen. We won't know for sure unless and until he wakes up and we can fully evaluate him."

Thelma drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them she was once more calm and in control. "Where is he right now?" she asked.

"Right now he's still in recovery and will be there for awhile. We'll have him in the ICU tonight but if he responds well, we might be able to downgrade his status tomorrow."

Al asked, "Can we see him?"

"I'm sorry sir, usually only family members are allowed in ICU."

"I'd like to request that an exception be made and the Admiral be given permission," Thelma quietly said.

"If that's your decision, I'll be sure to put it in his chart," Dr. Williams assured rising from his seat. "Now, if you'll excuse me?"

Both Al and Thelma murmured their thanks to the doctor before he turned and walked away. Once he was gone, Al turned to Thelma gratefully. "Thank you, Mrs. Beckett."

Thelma brushed it off. "It only makes sense, Admiral. I can't be here with him twenty-four hours a day, as much as I want to and I don't want Sam to be alone. That would be awful if he were to wake up by himself in a hospital room. I don't have any problem with spending the evenings and early mornings here since that's close to daytime hours in Hawaii. If you could take days, then someone will be with him around the clock and he won't be alone when he wakes up."

Al nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. That'll work out." He knew that in many ways this situation had pushed things almost back to the status quo before the wedding. He felt Thelma saw this trip as further evidence that Sam's being around him wasn't in his best interests, at least a good part of the time. Still, she trusted him to spend half of each day with her son.

"Does Katie know what's happened?" he ventured to ask. He was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question. If she had, she would have been here with her mother.

"No. I've been trying to reach her but they're having trouble contacting the ship and she won't be back for another week. Oh God," she said finally breaking down, "what if I have to tell her she's lost another brother when she gets back?"

Al put an arm around Thelma gently hugging her. "You're not going to have to do that, Ma'am. Like I told Sam, you just need to have a little faith. You'll see - he's going to pull through this."

Just then a nurse came to them and let them know that Sam had been transferred to the ICU unit. The two of them headed up to see the man that they both knew meant a great deal to them.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The first thing Al noticed when they were led into Sam's room in ICU was the sound of the ventilator's steady whoosh-whoosh as it forced air into Sam's lungs.

Seeing Al and Thelma standing just inside the doorway, Dr. Williams put the chart he was writing on back at the foot of Sam's bed and came over to them drawing them further into the room.

"His condition's still critical but he's stable," he told them. "He's responding well to the antibiotics we've got him on so that's a good sign. It's just a waiting game right now as to when he's going to wake up."

"Doc, you said this was caused by sepsis from the damage to his kidney but what about his head. He hit it awfully hard. He thought it was probably a grade three concussion. Are you sure there's nothing there that could be causing this?" Al asked as he walked around to stand on the side of the bed opposite Thelma being careful of the multitude of wires, tubes, and machines.

"Like I told you earlier, his x-rays and CT scan came back negative for any kind of traumatic brain injury beyond the concussion. Dr. Marks from neurology has also thoroughly examined him and found no evidence of any kind of serious head injury beyond the concussion. Of course, she won't be able to evaluate him completely until after he regains consciousness. He will be monitored very closely for any neurological problems that might crop up."

"What about his shoulder?" Thelma asked as she sat in the chair by the bed. "You said another doctor would be checking him for that?"

"Right now that's not at the top of our priority list. Dr. Ladd has checked it and seen the x-rays. He seems to think that Sam will most likely need surgery to stabilize it but that won't be done until he's awake and stronger. Right now, he's too weak for surgery. We came close to losing him on the table earlier. It's going to have to wait until he's much stronger. If you'd like I can ask Dr. Marks and Dr. Ladd to come and speak with you."

"Yes, please," Thelma said in a low voice.

"I'll leave the two of you with him right now." Dr. Williams started for the door but hesitated turning back around. "Generally only a 10 minute visit every hour is allowed in ICU. I'm going to waive that in Sam's case. Talk to him; let him know you're here. There's very good evidence that coma patients can hear what's happening around them. Let him know you're here and give him a reason to wake up."

"Thanks, Doc," Al said. "We'll do that."

"If you need anything, just let any of the nurses know."

Once Thelma and Al had nodded their understanding Dr. Williams left the room. With his departure, a silence fell over the room broken only by the steady whooshing of the ventilator and the beeping of the cardiac monitor.

Spying another chair over in the corner of the room, Al pulled it over to the side of the bed sitting down opposite Thelma and just looked at his friend. They'd cleaned him up but he still carried a week's growth of beard. His skin was a pasty white that just made the dark shadows under his eyes seem even darker. His eyes seemed sunken in and he lay so still. The only thing that assured Al that Sam really was still alive was the steady rise and fall of his chest from the ventilator and the noises from the machines.

IV's snaked down to both arms as well as a blood transfusion. Other wires and tubes going into Sam or attached to him disappeared under the blanket that was pulled up over him. Al hesitated, not wanting to touch Sam for fear of disturbing any of the equipment was keeping his friend alive.

Thelma didn't show the same fear picking up Sam's right hand in both of hers. She lightly kissed the back of his hand then rested it against her cheek and rubbed up and down his arm with one hand. "Sammy? It's Mama, Sammy. I need you to wake up, Sweetheart. The doctor says you're going to be just fine but you need to wake up." She waited a moment to see if her words had any effect. "Its okay, Sweetheart," she continued brushing a hand through Sam's hair when he showed no signs of waking. "If you need to rest a little longer, that's fine. I'll be here…we'll be here," she corrected herself looking across to Al, "when you wake up." She stood up from the chair and bent over Sam kissing him gently on the forehead. "I love you, Sammy," she whispered.

Following Thelma's example Al rested his hand gently on Sam's left elbow. He didn't want to take any chance of further injuring his shoulder by moving his arm so he contented himself with rubbing up and down Sam's forearm. "Hey, Kid. I told you we'd get down off that mountain, didn't I? This is a heck of a way to get any work done - sleeping on the job like this. Like your Mom said, though, if you need to rest a little longer you do that. You've certainly earned the rest. We'll be here when you wake up. Just, please wake up soon, Sam."

They both fell to silence not knowing what to say to Sam or to each other. A nurse came in the room a short time later. "Mrs. Beckett?" she asked.

"Yes. Is something wrong?"

"No, Ma'am. I just wanted to give you this," the nurse said holding out a large envelope to Thelma. "It's Mr. Beckett's personal effects; I thought you'd like to hold onto them."

"Doctor," Thelma corrected the young woman.

"I beg your pardon, Ma'am?" the nurse asked not understanding what Thelma meant. "Do you need me to get a doctor in here?"

"No," Thelma explained. "My son's a doctor not just a mister."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Ma'am," the nurse apologized. "I didn't know."

"It's okay," Thelma assured her with a small smile. "How could you know? I shouldn't have jumped on you. Thank you for bringing me Sam's belongings."

"You're welcome, Ma'am. Is there anything I can get you? Either of you?" she asked looking up to include Al.

They both assured her they were fine and she left the room.

Thelma opened the envelope and reached in to pull out the contents. The first thing she pulled out was a cheap, brown nylon wallet with a Velcro closure. "Sam never does pay much attention to what's fashionable," she commented putting the wallet down on the bed.

Al decided that it was probably not a good time tell her that he'd gifted Sam with the wallet as joke to keep him more organized. He'd been surprised when Sam actually thanked him and started using it. Somehow, this didn't seem like a good time to tell her that story.

She reached into the envelope and pulled out the remaining item holding it up. "Strange," she said looking at the ring in the palm of her hand. "Why would Sam have a Naval Academy ring? I know it's not his brother's. I have that one."

"It's mine," Al said softy.

"Yours? Why ever did Sam have your ring, Admiral?" she asked leaning over to return the ring to Al.

"I gave it to him before I left him," Al explained as reached over to take the ring from her. He didn't return it to his finger but held it just looking down at it. "He was so scared of being left alone I just wanted him to have something so that he'd know I'd come back. This is all I had with me."

He looked up meeting Thelma's eyes across the bed, pain in his eyes. "You've got to know I didn't want to leave him alone and if there was any other option I would have taken it. There just wasn't, though. He was hurt too bad to keep going and even if he'd tried that probably would have killed him." Al stopped and stood up, pacing as he talked. "I had to get him help as fast as I could so that meant leaving him alone." He turned back towards her and again looked into her eyes asking for her understanding. "It's got to be the hardest thing I've ever done. I told him as long as he had this he'd know I was coming back for him. I promised him I'd come back." He started to slip the ring back on his hand but then stopped and reached across to pick up Sam's right hand slipping the ring back on his middle finger where it had been when they found Sam.

"Admiral?" Thelma questioned not understanding why he was returning the ring to Sam.

"When he wakes up then he can give it back to me. For now I want him to keep it…so he knows he's not alone and I'm not going to leave him."

Again, the two of them fell to silence. After a while, Thelma looked over and noticed that Al was starting to doze off in the chair.

"Admiral," she called softly.

"Mmmm…what?" Al asked sitting up straighter in the chair.

"You're exhausted, Admiral. There's a hotel I'm staying in close by." She opened her purse and pulled out the card for the hotel. "Why don't you go there and get cleaned up, get yourself something to eat and a good night's rest. I'll be here with Sam tonight." When Al looked like he was going to argue she pointed out the agreement they made earlier.

"All right," Al said wearily getting up from the chair. "I'll be back in the morning. He bent down resting his hand gently on Sam's arm. "Sam, I'm gonna go for a little while now and get some sleep but I'll be back bright and early in the morning. Your Mom's going to be right here so you won't be alone." Just as he was about to straighten up, he bent his head closer and whispered into Sam's ear, "Don't you be giving these nurses a hard time. You don't want to blow either of our chances for later."

Thelma was confused. "What did you say to him, Admiral?"

Al smiled. "Inside joke…" He paused a moment before adding, "… but one that I'd hoped Sam would rise to answer."

Without further words exchanged between them, Al left the room and headed down the hall in the direction of the elevators. He didn't get more than half way there before he spun on his heel heading back to the room.

"I thought you were going to get some rest, Admiral?" Thelma questioned when he walked in the room.

"I am. I just wanted to leave this here with Sam," he said as he pulled the page from the book out of his pocket and handed it to Thelma. "I know it means a lot to him and I want to make sure he has it as soon as he wakes up."

Thelma took the folded paper from him and opened it to see her husband's handwriting. "This is from Sam's book. The one his father gave him."

"I know, Ma'am. We had to leave the book behind. Sam couldn't carry the extra weight, not with his shoulder the way it was. He insisted on keeping that page with him. I know how much it means to him."

"I'll make sure he knows its here when he wakes up," Thelma said tucking the page into her purse.

"Goodnight then, Ma'am," Al said and disappeared out the door again.


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

When Al got to the nearby hotel, he was glad he'd heeded Thelma's insistence to clean up somewhat in the restroom at the hospital. As it was, his appearance still raised the eyebrows of the woman behind the check-in desk. Once he'd secured a room he asked her where he could go to pick up a change of clothes and she directed him to a small clothing store that was in walking distance.

After making a quick trip there to get the essentials, Al went back to his room. The first thing he did was indulge in a long, hot shower washing the grime from the past week from his body. Climbing out of the shower, he looked down at the pile of dirt-encrusted clothes he'd had on for the past week and kicked them to the side. He'd deal with them later.

He pulled on clean clothes and collapsed on the bed falling immediately into a deep dreamless sleep. He didn't know anything of the waking world until the morning sun in his face prompted him to wake up. He looked at the clock, saw the time, and couldn't believe how late he'd slept. It didn't occur to him that he'd had precious little sleep in the last week.

He quickly dressed and stopped at the small restaurant in the lobby and wolfed down breakfast before heading back to the hospital. He was hoping against hope that when he got there Sam would be awake.

Al's hopes were quickly dashed when he walked in the room and realized that, if anything, Sam was worse this morning than he had been the night before. The blanket that had been covering the younger man the night before was gone. He currently was totally naked with only a towel strategically placed to offer some privacy and protect his dignity. Under him was some kind of pad that Al didn't remember seeing the night before.

Sam's body was bathed in sweat and Thelma was diligently wiping him down with a damp cloth. "What happened?" Al asked placing his hand on the bed. When he did, he realized that the pad under Sam was a cooling pad.

"His fever spiked during the night," Thelma answered as she continued to sponge off her son. "Dr. Williams was in and said it's because of the sepsis."

"You should have called me," Al said walking around to the side of the bed opposite her.

Thelma looked up briefly from her work. "You needed your rest, Admiral," she said brusquely then turned her attention back to her son.

The door opened to admit Dr. Williams to the room.

"I thought you said he was responding to the antibiotic last night," Al asked as soon as he saw him.

"He was, Admiral. The spike in his fever and its continued presence could mean there was more damage to his kidney than what we thought."

"What does that mean?" Thelma asked.

Dr. Williams picked up the chart from the foot of the bed and started to flip through its pages before he answered. Finally, he put the chart down and gave Thelma his full attention. "It means if his fever doesn't break in the next couple of hours or if it rises we're going to have to go back in and see if we missed anything. It might mean removing the part of the kidney that we saved."

"I thought you said he wasn't strong enough for surgery," Al questioned the doctor.

"I'm not going to lie to either of you or sugar coat this. Currently, he really isn't strong enough for another surgical procedure and we're doing everything to prevent that. The antibiotic he's on has been adjusted and it's much stronger than what he was initially being treated with but we still have to give it a little more time to work."

"How long?" Thelma asked. "How long until surgery is the only option?"

Dr. Williams sighed. "If there's no significant improvement within the next 4-6 hours it may well be our only option."

"And he might not survive the surgery," Thelma clarified.

"His chances are about 50/50 if we have to operate again."

Before anyone could say anything else, Sam's body stiffened and then started convulsing as alarms started to go off.

Dr. Williams swung into action pushing Thelma out of his way to reach Sam as a medical team rushed through the door. A nurse quickly gathered up Al and Thelma pushing them out the door. The last thing they heard was Dr. Williams giving an order for diazepam before the door was firmly shut in their faces.

The two spent a silent tense fifteen minutes waiting outside the door caught up in their own thoughts. Looking over to Thelma, Al had a pretty good idea that she was probably blaming him for what had happened…for what was happening. He couldn't say he disagreed with her.

Finally, the door to Sam's room opened and most of the medical team came out followed by Dr. Williams. When Al and Thelma seemed ready to go into the room, he stopped them. Al was just barely able to see a nurse adjusting an IV on Sam before the door swung closed shutting him off from the sight of his friend but what he had seen was enough to let him know that Sam was still alive.

"What happened?" Thelma asked with a tremor in her voice.

"Why don't we go down to the lounge at the end of the hall," Dr. Williams suggested gesturing in that direction.

Once the door was shut and all three were seated Dr. Williams began to explain. "Sam had a seizure brought on by the high fever he's running. Unfortunately, it's not unheard of when the body temperature hits 104 or over. We've stabilized him right now."

"It could happen again, though, couldn't it?" Al asked.

Dr. Williams gave a short nod. "It could but it's just as likely this will be the only one."

"Does this change anything, Doctor? Does this mean he needs surgery now?" Thelma asked.

"No. We're sticking with the original timetable right now. Like I said, he's stabilized and we've got to give the antibiotic a chance to do its job. It's too risky right now to expose him to another operation if we can avoid it." Dr. Williams stopped speaking and looked carefully at Thelma. "Why don't you go back to your hotel, Mrs. Beckett and get some sleep. You'll be no good to Sam if you're falling over from exhaustion."

"No," Thelma said shaking her head. "If there's a chance that Sam…" she stopped to pull herself together and gather her thoughts. Al reached over hesitantly to lay a supporting arm around her shoulders almost expecting her to shrug it off but she didn't. She continued in a slightly stronger voice, "If there's a chance that Sam's going to…die," her voice broke on the last word and she hurried the rest of her words before she broke down in tears. "I want to be here with him."

"I understand, Mrs. Beckett," Dr. Williams said sympathetically. He rose from his chair and headed for the door, "I'll be back in an hour to check on him. You can use this room as long as you need."

"Thanks," Al said in acknowledgement.

Al and Thelma sat in the lounge for another few moments until Thelma had pulled herself together. Wiping her eyes off with a tissue, she'd pulled from her purse she resolutely stood up. "I'm going back to my son," she said. "I'm sure he'd like it if you were there, too."

Al followed her out the door and back to Sam's room.

The next few hours were as tense as any Al could remember in his life – even counting the years he'd been a POW in Vietnam. The two of them took turns sponging down Sam's body doing whatever they could to help bring down the fever that continued to rage. After three hours of the repetitive ritual Thelma seemed to sense a change in Sam and rested the palm of her hand first on his forehead and then on his cheek.

"I think his fever's finally coming down," she happily said.

A nurse came in a short while later and confirmed that, indeed, his fever was coming down. Both Thelma and Al breathed out a sigh of relief.

They breathed a second sigh of relief when Dr. Williams came back in the room 45 minutes later. He confirmed that Sam's fever was indeed breaking and that he was responding to the antibiotic and there would be no need for surgery. With Sam's well-being, at least for the moment, assured, Al finally convinced Thelma to go back to her hotel room and get some rest.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

The next several days showed steady improvement from Sam. The day after his fever broke Dr. Williams introduced a naso-gastric feeding tube. Since Sam's comatose state continued, they had to make sure his nutritional needs were being met.

Charlie and Melissa had come by on the third day. Al had left his pack in their trunk and they wanted to return it to him. Not knowing where else to reach him, they figured that starting at the hospital would be their best bet. They asked about his friend and Al gave them the news that he was in a coma and that things at that point could go either way. The two promised to pray for Sam and Al thanked them. He told Thelma about this when he saw her that night. She was grateful that without knowing Sam they would pray for him.

By the end of the fifth day in the hospital, Dr. Williams removed the ventilator and Sam was breathing on his own. By the seventh day, he'd been moved out of ICU and into a private room in the hospital's step-down unit as he continued to improve. Although he was still running a fever, it was low-grade and nowhere near the one that had threatened his life. There were also no more seizures. The only drawback was that he remained comatose.

It was after Sam had been in the hospital in a coma for a week that Dr. Williams talked with Thelma and advised her that if Sam didn't come out of the coma soon it would be time to start looking into other arrangements for him. He explained that as soon as his condition was stable it would be safe to transfer him from a critical care hospital to a long-term care one.

Al and Thelma had fallen into a pattern over those seven days. Al would sit with Sam from nine in the morning until nine at night. He'd usually be at the hospital by at least eight, though, to spend some time with Thelma and keep her company. Thelma would sit with Sam from nine at night until nine in the morning. Like Al, she too would get to the hospital at least an hour early.

Katie had returned from her cruise and was shaken when she heard the news. She'd wanted to fly out to Colorado right away to be with them but Thelma has insisted that she remain in Hawaii reminding her she had a wedding to plan. When Katie seemed skeptical about that, Thelma insisted that Sam would be there at her wedding to walk her down the aisle just as he'd promised. It was still only early October and the wedding wasn't until the middle of November. That left plenty of time for Sam to wake up.


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

The day after Sam left ICU, Al hired a helicopter company to take him back up to the mountain that morning. He needed to go pick up their equipment and he had heard that the plane would be salvaged soon. He had to get Sam's book for him.

They'd stopped first at the tent site. It was still up, looking no worse for wear than any other time. Al packed up things quickly. As he stuffed Sam's mummy bag into the sack, he was suddenly taken by a vision of what it must have been like for Sam, alone, fevered, and frightened out in the woods. He was thankful that Sam was alive but he wished his final semiconscious hours on the mountain had been better. A few minutes later, they were in the air again.

They headed up to the Chicago Basin area where the plane had crashed flying over the ice field that had been Sam's major undoing. As Al looked at it from this height, it didn't look nearly as bad. He knew, though, what that ice field had cost.

Finally, they were back at the plane. Al quickly headed up to the man with a clipboard, who he'd met with during the official investigation, Peter Michaels. As the pilot, he had to submit to an interview. He'd made sure that the man had been given a full report. The man looked puzzled. "Admiral Calavicci?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you saw evidence that the plane's engine had been tampered with?" The skepticism in the man's voice was clear.

Al nodded, firm in his conviction. "Absolutely. It looked like some kind of device or something that was set to explode at altitude."

Mr. Michaels continued to look at his notes. "I see no evidence of a device of any kind in the engine or any indication of an explosion. From what I can see there's been no tampering with this plane"

"What?" Al knew the damage was unmistakable.

Mr. Michaels started to repeat, "I said I saw no evidence of tampering…"

"I heard what you said." Al said cutting him off. "I just can't believe it."

"Would you like to look at the engine again?"

"Absolutely!" How this nozzle could miss something that obvious had Al questioning the competency of the man.

They walked over to the front of the plane and the man opened the engine cover. Al examined every angle of the engine. There was no evidence of any explosion or the device that he'd seen. The engine looked as pristine as George had always kept it.

He was stupefied. "This is impossible. I know what I saw."

"I understand you hit your head." Mr. Michaels was giving him an out.

Al shook his head, still trying to figure out what could have happened, how the evidence he had clearly seen had disappeared. "I didn't hit it so hard that I imagined what I saw. Something's very strange here."

"Well, my report is going to have to indicate pilot error since there doesn't seem to be any other cause."

Al said plainly, "It wasn't pilot error. Something happened to the engine. I know you don't believe what I saw, but I did see it. I can't explain the change, but I know what I saw."

Again, the man tried to give him an out. "I'm sure you thought you did."

Al looked up at him, every fiber in his body telling the same message. "No. I repeat, I know what I saw. Something strange is going on here and I'll be damned if I can figure out what it is."

The man looked at Al. Either this man was a professional liar or he was telling the truth that he'd seen something that couldn't be explained. He didn't understand why, but he decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt, even though there was absolutely no reason to do so. Mr. Michaels nodded. "I'll make a small concession. I'll change it to read unknown engine problem, suspected contribution of pilot error."

Al didn't like it but he accepted it. He recognized this was truly a concession on the investigator's part. Al had no proof to dispute it otherwise.

He packed up all the equipment they'd left behind. He even made sure to get Sam's cotton sweater that he had deemed unsuitable. He pulled the cooler open. The four beers were still there, floating in the melted water and warm but still there. Al figured he'd might as well bring those back with him.

The final item that Al retrieved was Sam's book. As he picked it up, he pulled it out of the zip lock back and caressed the spine with his hand. "Maybe this will help the kid."

Al walked back to the helicopter, now holding all of the camping equipment and other personal items, including those things he knew George would want to keep. He sat down in the seat next to the pilot. As they headed up into the sky, Al noticed the name on the side of the larger helicopter from the salvage company that was in a clearing not far from the plane. Lotherman Industries. He'd never seen that name before but somehow it stuck in his mind. He hoped that there was something left worth salvaging. He didn't look forward to talking to George that night.


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

When Al didn't show up at the hospital until much later than he was expected, Thelma began to get irritated thinking that he'd given up on Sam and left.

"I thought maybe you'd decided not to come," her chill voice greeted him as he walked in the door.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Beckett. I had an errand to run and it took a little longer than I thought it would," Al explained.

"Do I even want to know what that errand was, Admiral?" Thelma asked bitingly.

Al's first instinct was to return her ill-tempered attitude with one of his own but tamped down the instinct. This was Sam's mother and even if they didn't get along, he'd always made it a point to treat her with the utmost respect and he always would.

"I had to keep a promise I made to Sam."

"A promise?" Thelma asked arching her eyebrows. "And just what promise would that be?"

Al reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out the book that was within it and placed it near Sam on the bed. "I told him once we got off that mountain we'd find a way to get back to the crash site so he could get his book. The weather's going to start to get worse and if the snows really come, the wreckage could end up buried in it. They're also salvaging what they can from it. I didn't want to take the chance that the book would be ruined and lost so I found a way to go there this morning and get it for him. I thought…I thought..."Al helplessly shrugged. "Hell, I'm not sure what I thought." He walked away from the bed and went over to stand by the window looking out at the snow-capped mountains in the not-too-far distance.

Thelma gently picked up the book from the bed and ran her hand lovingly over the cover. She looked back over to the man silhouetted in the window and her expression softened. She walked over to him and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she simply said. "This book means so much to Sam. It will mean a lot to him that you went back to get it for him." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I'm surprised you were able to convince him to leave it behind. Every time Sam went camping when he was growing up he'd bring this with him. Tom would try to get him to leave it behind or John would try. I even tried a time or two but none of us ever had any success."

"It wasn't easy," Al said turning around. "Sam can take stubborn to new levels. When I found out why he wanted to keep it with him, I felt like such a monster making him leave it behind. I know it means a great deal to him and that's why I had to go back and retrieve it."

Thelma looked down at the book thoughtfully and then back to Al. "This book isn't the only thing that means something to Sam."

"Ma'am?"

"There's a certain Admiral who seems to mean a lot to my son as well. He's a bit of a rascal but my son seems to put a lot of stock in him though I've never understood why. It's becoming a little clearer, though," she said holding the book out to Al. "If I can make a suggestion, Admiral?"

"What's that, Ma'am?" Al asked as he accepted the book from Thelma.

"Read this to him. Maybe it will reach him. His father used to read it to him all the time. Maybe if he hears the words again it will help him find his way back to us."

Al looked from Thelma down to the book in his hands and back. "I will," he said simply.

"I want to show you something," Thelma said walking back over to get her purse. She pulled her wallet from it and opened it up to the pictures she kept in it. From under a recent snapshot of Sam she pulled out a much older one and handed it to Al.

Al looked down at the old black and white photo and saw a man who looked so much like Sam sitting in a rocking chair. In his lap was a small boy maybe two or three years old. The child clutched a teddy bear in one hand and the thumb of the other hand was firmly in his mouth. The wide eyes gazed with wonder at the book the older man held.

"I was never much for taking pictures when the kids were small. John was always the one who did that but I peaked in the bedroom one night and saw Sam curled up in his father's lap while John read to him. They looked so adorable together I snuck back out of the room and found where John had the camera and snuck back in and took the picture without either of them being aware of it, at least until the flash went off. Sam had just turned two. I've kept this picture with me since. Sam always loved to hear John read _The Call of the Wild_ to him and would always beg him to, even when he could read it himself. There was just something about hearing his father reading it. I tried once but Sam said it wasn't the same. It was Daddy's story and that was that."

"He told me it always made him feel safe when his father read it to him," Al said softly. He looked from the picture to the man lying in the bed. "He looks so much like his father although I see some of you in him as well."

Thelma leaned over Al's arm to look at the picture with him. "Sam looked more like me as a child. As he ages, he looks more and more like his father, it seems."

Al let out a small laugh looking back at the picture. "I never would have guessed Sam had been blonde or had curls like this."

Thelma smiled softly and took the picture back from Al. "Katie was the only one who wasn't born with blonde hair and Tom was the only one who didn't have curls. I nearly cried when Sam got his first haircut, especially when the curls never grew back. The older he got, the darker his hair got - except in the summer. He'd spend so much time outside he'd have blonde streaks again." She walked over to the bed, sat down on the edge of it, and brushed Sam's hair back. "It doesn't look like he gets out in the sun much anymore."

"No, not nearly enough," Al agreed. "He spends too much time in labs and offices. That's why I wanted to take him on this trip – to give a chance to be outside and experience life without being cooped up in the lab. I never dreamed he'd end up fighting for his life."

"Tell me about it," Thelma commanded. "Tell me what happened up on that mountain and don't spare me anything. I want to know. I need to know."

Al sat down in the chair next to the bed and started to tell Thelma about their week on the mountain. She laughed when he told her about their run-in with the skunk and the bear and there were tears in her eyes when he got to the part of having to leave Sam alone and go ahead for help by himself.

"I didn't realize you'd almost died up there, too," she said when Al was finished with the story. "Thank you for doing everything you could to get him back to me, Admiral. I'm sorry if I was hard on you at first. I shouldn't have been."

"No!" Al disagreed. "You had every right. If I hadn't insisted on Sam taking a vacation this never would have happened."

"We can't live our lives with 'what ifs', Admiral. There's too many of them. Sam's alive now and that's what counts. Now we just have to see that he gets well."

Al got up from the chair and pulled Thelma to her feet. "You're a wise woman, Mrs. Beckett but if you don't leave now and go get some sleep you're going to be no good to Sam later."

"Sounds like you're trying to get rid of me?" Thelma half stated and half asked.

Al smiled. "I would never do that. I know that Sam needs you but I also know you need to sleep. Besides, I've got some reading to do." He waited until Thelma had said goodbye to Sam, bending over to kiss him gently on the cheek, promising she'd be back later. He handed her her purse and coat and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the door.

"I'll see you later tonight, Admiral."

Al waited until the door had shut behind her before sitting back down in the chair. He picked up Sam's hand between his two. "She's quite a lady, your mother." Gently he chafed the chilled skin trying to bring some warmth to it. "Geez, I'll never understand why they keep it so cold in hospitals. At least this is better than that fever you had, huh, Sam?" He waited a moment almost to allow Sam to answer him. "When are you gonna wake up, Sam? Your Mom's worried about you and so's your sister. She wants to postpone her wedding cause I think she's afraid that you're not going to be there." Again Al paused but this time he wasn't waiting for an answer. "I miss you, buddy. It's time for you to start waking up now. Besides, we'll be hearing any day from the committee. You need to be awake to drink the champagne."

Al put Sam's hand back down on the bed but rested his hand on Sam's chest where he could feel the steady beat of his heart and feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He stayed sitting like that for a little while before he reached for the book that he'd placed on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Your Mom thinks I should read this to you so how 'bout it. I'll read to you for a little while and then you wake up so you can finish reading it yourself."

Al opened up the book turning to the first page and began to read, "Chapter 1, Into the Primitive…"


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

During the afternoon, a man came into Sam's room. Al was immediately on guard since he didn't recognize him. After what had happened at the plane that morning, the evidence of the engine problems disappearing, Al wasn't taking any chances.

"Hi, my name's, Chris," the man said extending his hand to Al.

Al shook his had warily. "Name's Calavicci. Can I do something for you?"

"I'm from the physical therapy department. I'm going to start working with Sam to keep him from stiffening up."

Al relaxed when Chris said he was with the hospital. "Isn't that going to be a little hard," Al asked, "considering he's still in a coma?"

"Not really," Chris explained. "I'm going to do some passive exercises with him. I'll be moving his limbs to make sure his joints and muscles don't stiffen up. They're fairly simple exercises that you could do with him as well. The more often they're done the better it will be for him in the long run."

Al watched carefully as Chris manipulated Sam's arms and legs making sure the muscles were being stretched and his joints weren't stiffening. After demonstrating each of the exercises Chris would then have Al try them.

"Is that such a good idea?" Al asked when Chris started to move Sam's left arm.

"If we don't want his shoulder to stiffen up, it's important. You just need to be extra careful and remember that there's not quite as much of a range of motion as his other arm has." Again, Chris demonstrated to Al what to do and then watched as Al repeated what Chris had done. He was still nervous about moving Sam's left shoulder remembering the fear that Sam felt when he thought it would pop out of joint again. Al half expected it would do that during the exercises.

"Good, that's good," Chris encouraged him. "The more movement the better it's going to be for him when he wakes. The quicker we'll be able to get him up on his feet."

Once the exercises were done Chris stepped out of the room for a moment telling Al he'd be right back. When he came back, he had an armful of pillows.

"It's important that the position he's in gets changed regularly. If he stays in one position for too long that's going to start to cause pressure ulcers. The nurses will start moving him around more now." Chris un-tucked the sheet that had been folded into thirds and was under Sam's hips and torso and used it to roll Sam over onto right side. He used the pillows that he'd brought in with him to brace Sam from behind and keep him in position. He made sure that pillows supported Sam's head and that none of the tubes and wires going into him had kinked up or were being pulled on. Once he was satisfied that everything was as it should be, Chris turned his attention back to Al. "I'll let the nurses know I've moved him to his side. He should stay like this for at least an hour. It was good to meet you and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon.

Al thanked Chris for his care of Sam and watched while he left the room before sitting down by the bed again.

"Hey, that must feel pretty good being a new position," he said quietly. Like he seemed to do in these one-sided conversations, he paused long enough so that if he were awake Sam could have answered. Each time he always hoped there'd be some kind of response.

"No one should be in for at least and hour so how about if I read some more to you?" He grabbed the book from its place on the nightstand and flipped it open to the place he'd marked. "Chapter 3, The Dominant Primordial Beast…"


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Al was in a deep sleep when the phone rang waking him up. After his trek up the mountain to reclaim their gear and the time he'd spent at the hospital he'd fallen immediately to sleep as soon as he climbed into bed. He jerked awake at the jangling noise coming from beside him.

"Hello," he warily said into the phone. The only reason he could think of for someone to call him at this time was if something had happened to Sam.

"Admiral? It's Thelma Beckett."

Immediately Al sat up in bed completely alert. "Is something wrong? Is it Sam?"

"No, no, Admiral. Nothing's wrong at all. I just wanted to let you know Sam just started to move on his own a little while ago. I think he's starting to wake up."

It was the best news Al could have gotten. "Has the doctor said anything?" he asked.

"No, we're waiting for him to get here. I just thought you'd like to know right away."

"That I would Ma'am. I'm just gonna throw on some clothes and I'll be right down there."

By the time Al got to the hospital Dr. Williams was in the room. He looked at Sam surprised by what he saw. He'd expected…hoped that when he got there Sam would be awake and talking. Instead, he looked the same as he had earlier in the day.

"I thought…" Al started to say.

"Admiral Calavicci, as I just explained to Mrs. Beckett, Sam is starting to wake up. We have to be patient, though. This isn't a TV show and he's not suddenly just going to open his eyes and be fine. It's going to take a little time. It may actually be a couple of more days before he's fully awake but you'll notice him moving around a bit more and even opening his eyes. He's definitely on the right track. I also think it's fair to warn you, though, that this could mean nothing. Most people think that coma patients lie still but that's not really so. Movement from someone in a coma is a very normal thing. His responses are definitely better than they have been, though, so I think it's safe to take this as a positive sign that he's moving toward waking up."

Dr. Williams bid them a good night and left the room.

"I'm so sorry, Admiral," Thelma apologized. "I really thought he was waking up when he started to move."

"It's okay, Mrs. Beckett. At least we know he's headed in that direction now."

"Yes, there is that. Why don't you go on back to the hotel and try to go back to sleep. It looks like I pulled you from your rest with a false alarm. I guess it's still going to be a while before Sam's ready to wake up."

Al assured Sam's mother that he'd rather be awakened for a false alarm then not be contacted if something was really happening. He again said his goodnights and left the hospital. It was with mixed feelings that he headed back to the hotel. On the one hand, he was saddened that his friend hadn't been awake as he'd expected him to be but on the other, his heart was lighter with the news that Sam was beginning to wake up. They'd just have to give him the time he needed.


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

It was late on the twelfth day. Al was now reading the book for Sam for the fourth time but it didn't seem to be doing any good. Sam just lay there, comatose. Occasionally he would start moving around or even open his eyes but he was no closer to waking than he'd been the night Thelma had called. The first time Sam had opened his eyes with Al in the room, Al had been overjoyed but after a closer look, it had felt like he'd been gut punched. Although Sam's eyes had been open, there'd been no recognition, no life in them - just a dull blank stare. It had been unnerving.

The only real improvement they saw over those few days was Sam's responses to sounds. Loud noises would cause him to flinch and turn away from them. If Thelma or Al called out his name, which they did often trying to reach the mind of the man lying in front of them, he'd instinctively turn his head in that direction. Dr. Williams continued to assure them that all of these were good signs and that they'd just have to be patient at this point. Al was beginning to hate the word "patient".

Al had tried to vary the reading and exercises a bit through the days. He figured that variety might be important. Over the nearly two weeks he'd spent with his comatose friend, he also told Sam about things from his past.

He'd told him about growing up on the streets, about the orphanage, and about Trudy. Al told him about Annapolis and going to MIT. He talked about the upcoming project and how, without Sam, there would be no Project Quantum Leap. Today, though, he settled down to read the final chapter yet again. Picking up the book, he found his place and again began to read about Buck's delight at hunting, fishing and wandering through strange places and camping here and there for weeks on end.

"Daddy?" The voice was weak but clear.

Al looked up and saw Sam, confused but his eyes were open and this time there was both recognition and life in them. "Sam?" Al's eyes were cautious. Then as he realized that Sam was truly awake this time and that he hadn't imagined the voice, he yelled, "Sam! Oh, thank God! How are you feeling, buddy?"

"Weak…and tired…and thirsty. Can I have some water?"

"Let me check with the nurse. I don't want you drinking if it could hurt you."

Sam sighed. He figured Al's asking was unavoidable. When the nurse, Laura Haverty, came into the room, she confirmed he could have the water and it wouldn't hurt him. He tried to drink the through the straw as Al held the glass for him but didn't seem to have the strength necessary to pull the liquid up the short distance to his mouth. Laura, seeing the difficulty he was having, suggested that instead he suck on ice chips. She left the room briefly to get some. She returned with a cup and a spoon and Al slowly started to feed small amounts of the ice into Sam's mouth.

"How's that?" Al asked

"Good, thanks," he mumbled around the ice, not wanting them to slip out.

"Sam, do you know who I am?" Al asked tentatively. He hadn't forgotten Dr. Williams warning of possible brain damage and it was starting to play heavily on his mind with the realization that Sam had called him Daddy.

Sam furrowed his brow quizzically and answered, "You're Al. Why?"

A broad smile broke out on Al's face when Sam correctly identified him. "No reason, Kid. You want some more ice?"

"Yes, please," Sam weakly answered.

A moment later, Al heard the sound of the door opening again. "Al, I picked you up some cannoli. I hope…" Thelma Beckett stopped suddenly, dropping the bag on the floor. She ran to the bed, "Sammy! You are a sight for sore eyes, there's no denying that!" Al moved to the side to allow Thelma Beckett the room to put her arms around her son.

"Mom! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Hawaii?" Sam asked weakly returning his mother's hug.

"I've been here for almost three weeks." Thelma answered releasing Sam from the hug. "You fall from the sky and you don't think I'm going to come running?"

"I guess not. I love you, Mom!" He stopped for a moment, trying to remember something. Suddenly it became clear to him. "I saw Dad! And Tom. They told me I had to come back that I couldn't stay with them." Sam had a sense from the looks on his mother's face and Al's that they didn't believe him but he pressed on anyway, "Dad told me to let you know he misses you and you're still his best girl."

Up until that last Thelma had figured the memory Sam was telling her had been a dream of his. "What did you say?"

"He said he missed you."

"No, the other part."

"He said you were still his best girl."

Thelma's eyes filled with tears as she whispered softly, "John."

"Mom, what's wrong? Don't cry. Please." Sam was concerned that his words had obviously caused his mother distress.

Thelma gave her son a kiss and a final hug and hurried from the room.

"Al? I…"

Seeing that Sam was concerned about his mother, Al gave him a squeeze on his arm. "I'll be right back," Al told Sam before he headed out the door. He found Thelma just outside of it in tears.

"You go back in there, Admiral. Sam needs you with him."

"He needs you as well. He's worried about you."

"I know. I'm just a bit too emotional right now. I don't want him to see me like this." She reached into her purse and pulled out the page from the book. "Here, take this. He'll want it now."

Al nodded, taking the page from her. He gave Thelma a hug before heading back into the room, but suddenly turned. "Are you all right, Ma'am?"

Thelma dabbed at her eyes. "John always called me his best girl, but he never said it in front of the children. It was always just a special thing between the two of us."

"Couldn't Sam have overheard it one time?"

"I don't think so. As I say, it was just between us."

Al nodded and then continued back into the room.

"Where did you go? Is Mom okay?" Sam asked with a worried expression on his face.

"I went to check on your mother. She seemed rather moved by your tale. I wanted to make sure she was all right and she is. She'll be back in any time now."

"It's not a tale, Al. There was a bright light and it felt warm and peaceful. I wanted to stay but they told me I had to come back. It was real Al. I could see the EMT's working on my body but I wasn't in it anymore." He suddenly remembered how distraught Al had been on the way to the hospital. "I'm sorry I caused you so much grief. I know you kept your promise, Al."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sam. I'm just thankful that you're alive and awake!"

"When I woke up just now I could hear you reading 'The Call of the Wild.' For a moment, I thought it was Dad."

"Yeah. Well." He handed the paper to Sam. "Here's the page from the book. It was in the leaves where we found you. You must have dropped it."

Sam reached out, taking the folded page. The gratitude in Sam's eyes was deep and true and he hoarsely stated "Thank you, Al. It means a lot to me. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost this."

"I know that, Kid. I got this for you as well." Al placed the book down on the bed next to Sam.

Sam ran his hand gently over the cover of the book before looking back up to Al, gratitude shining from his eyes. "You went back for it," he said softly.

"I promised you we'd get it back once we were safe." Al chuckled softly, "I think I've read it so many times now that I've got it memorized."

"Thank you," Sam again simply said.

By this time, the Doctor had arrived. He examined Sam putting him through some simple neurological checks that he seemed to pass with flying colors. There didn't seem to be any sign of the brain damage they'd been warned could happen. "Keep this up and you'll be home before you know it."

Sam smiled. "I'm going to hold you to that."

While the doctor examined Sam, Al picked up the bag that Thelma had dropped by the door. "Oh my God, she must have found an Italian bakery," he said in surprise opening the bag and looking in. "These are authentic cannolis!"

"Let me have one," Sam begged his voice a little stronger. "I'm staved."

"Hey…you get your own…she got these for me."

"You sound like Tom!"

"Smart man!" Al stopped for a moment and looked over to Sam, his puppy dog face firmly plastered on. "Okay. You can have one…" Sam's face started to brighten and then fell again as Al finished, "…if the doc here says it's all right."

Sam turned his puppy face on the unsuspecting doctor, begging him, "Please, can I have one?"

"I'd rather start you on clear fluids."

"I'm willing to take the consequences if I don't tolerate one well. I've been eating freeze-dried food for the last week, doctor. I'd like to eat something different."

At Sam's mention of time a hush fell over the room.

"What?" Sam asked sensing there was something they weren't telling him and looking from Dr. Williams to Al.

"It's been nearly two weeks since you were found," Dr. Williams finally told him.

"Two weeks?" Sam asked in shock.

"You've been comatose for twelve days."

"I was starting to think you were just gonna keep sleeping and let me do all the work," Al said trying to lighten the mood.

"That's why Mom said three weeks." Sam was silent for a moment trying to digest the news that it had been nearly two weeks since he'd last been conscious. "I guess that's why this is here," he said touching the n-g tube. "Wow, two weeks." Sam took a deep breath and seemed to come to a decision. "I'm still hungry and want one of those cannolis and I'm willing to take the risk."

"All right," Dr. Williams gave in, "But only half of one."

Al happily handed Sam a half a cannoli right as his mother walked in. "Just like Tom, feeding Sam stuff that isn't good for him."

Sam just smiled back at his mother, a big glob of cannoli cream on the side of this mouth.

0000000

As it turned out, Sam didn't even come close to finishing the half of cannoli the doctor had allowed him. After just a couple of bites, his eyes grew heavy and he started to drift to sleep.

Thelma rescued the cannoli from his hand before it could fall and make a mess of the sheets.

Dr. Williams, who had stayed in the room to make sure there were no ill effects from the cannoli, quickly assured Al and Thelma that it was perfectly normal that Sam would drop off to sleep so quickly. His body was still very weak, he explained to them. He told them that Sam would probably do this for the next couple of days as he regained his strength but that he was, indeed, in a normal sleep and not the deep unconsciousness of the coma.

"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with his mind," Al said. "I guess we don't have to worry about that."

"There doesn't," Dr. Williams agreed. "Of course he hasn't been thoroughly examined or tested yet and there is the possibility that there could be something we're not seeing yet. We'll let him rest tonight and schedule the tests for tomorrow. He was well oriented, though, and recognized both of you and seemed to have some awareness of what happened so I'm not worried that anything will be found. The test will be more of a precaution."

Both Al and Thelma let out a sigh of relief. The possibility that Sam could wake up brain damaged had hung over their heads like the Sword of Damocles.

"So what now, doctor," Thelma asked.

"Now we let him rest tonight. He'll probably be awake on and off for short times. Tomorrow we'll run some neurological tests on him and make sure everything on that end is set. After that, it's pretty much going to be up to Sam as to how quickly he starts to regain his strength. We'll start him on a soft diet tomorrow. It's been a while since he's had any solid food and it's best not to overwhelm his system at once. That cannoli was the exception and, frankly, I'm surprised he had it in him to chew and eat as much of it as he did. Since he's holding it down well we can assume it won't be a problem to start him eating again. I'm hoping we can get him up and moving around by tomorrow afternoon."

"Out of bed?" Thelma asked interrupting the doctor in surprise. "Is he going to be ready for that?"

"I don't see any reason why he shouldn't be," Dr Williams answered. "The sooner he's up and moving around the better it is for him. The longer he's lying in that bed the more we're opening the door for a whole host of complications – anything from pneumonia to a UTI. He doesn't need anything like that right now and it could likely set his recovery back significantly. He'll likely need a lot of help and support to get moving since he hasn't been up for almost two weeks but once we get him going you'll see he'll improve remarkably."

"How much longer do you think he'll have to stay here?" Al asked.

"Being conservative, I'd say he'll probably be here at least another weak."

"And then we can take him home?" Thelma asked hopefully.

"I see no reason why not. He'll still need some continued therapy after that for his shoulder and most likely surgery to repair it as well. Dr. Ladd will be able to talk to you more about that. He'll also need to continue with follow-ups with a nephrologist to be sure everything with that kidney continues to check out. I'll be able to recommend someone he can see once he's back in New Mexico.

Right now I'd suggest that the two of you go on back to your hotel and get some rest of your own. At least one of you has been here with Sam constantly and you need to start getting your own rest. Sam might be awake now but he's still got a long road ahead of him to complete recovery and he's going to need you healthy for that."

"I'm staying right here," Thelma said resolutely. "You said there's a chance he might wake during the night and I don't want him to be alone when he does."

"I'm not going anywhere either," Al said.

"Somehow I knew that's the answer I'd get from both of you but I had to try. I'll be back in tomorrow morning to check on him. In the meantime, do try to get some rest of your own."

After Dr. Williams had left the room, Thelma spontaneously hugged Al. "He's going to be all right. My baby's going to be all right."

"I never doubted him for a minute," Al said returning the hug.

Letting Al go, Thelma went back over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Leaning over she grabbed a tissue out of the box and used it to wipe off the glob of cream that was still on Sam's face. "He looks so peaceful when he sleeps," she said. "I used to love to just watch him sleeping when he was growing up." She looked up at Al where he stood beside the bed. "I used to love to watch all three of them when they slept. My little angels." Sam picked just that moment to shift in the bed and roll partially over nudging his mother from where she was sitting. Al quickly put out a hand to her so she wouldn't fall.

"Looks like your little angel wants the whole bed to himself."

"He never was one to stay still when he slept." She looked thoughtful for a moment then laughed softly. "We visited with one of John's sisters out of state when Sam about seven. He and Tom had to share the sleeper sofa in the living room and every night for a week John and I would have to play 'referee' between the two. Without fail, Tom would call for one of us to come get Sam off him. When we'd get out there, Sam would have an arm or a leg thrown over Tom and he just wouldn't move. We'd end up having to pick him up to move him over to his side and he'd never wake up. The last day we were there Tom woke up with a black eye from where Sam had hit him. Poor boy got no relief from the teasing that day from his cousins for letting his baby brother beat him up." She reached down to brush the back of her hand gently over Sam's cheek. "When he realized what he'd done Sam cried for an hour. He never could stand to see anyone or anything hurt. Tom wanted to be mad at him but when he saw how sad Sam was, he just couldn't. He never was one to let anyone or anything get his baby brother down."

"They were close," Al said more as a statement than a question.

"Very. It hurt Sam very deeply when Tom was…when Tom died and then when John followed two years afterwards. He seemed to pull into himself then. It was almost as if he was trying to block out the rest of the world so that he couldn't be hurt anymore. At first, I was so hurt and angry myself I didn't see what it was doing to Sam." She stopped, thinking and then raised her head back up stating, "You know that's why he became a medical doctor. To appease me."

Al sensed in Thelma the same reluctance to talk about her oldest son's death that he'd gotten from Sam and chose not to question it. Obviously, it was something that was still a painful wound for the family and he had no intention of inflicting pain when it wasn't necessary.

Thelma seemed to pull herself visibly from the line of thinking. "You've been here all day with Sam. You should head back to get some dinner and get some sleep."

"You'll call me if there are any changes, Mrs. Beckett?"

She nodded and then as if she'd make a decision she stated, "You know, I think that after these past twelve days, you may call me Thelma."

Al smiled. "And I would be honored for you to call me Al." He looked down at young man sleeping, seeing his eyes moving under the lids in REM sleep. "He's dreaming."

Thelma nodded. "It must be a good dream. He's smiling."

Al nodded to her and turned to leave the room. The rhythm of the last twelve days was continuing but now with a lighter feel. Sam was going to be all right. Al's mind turned towards the future. He was expecting to hear any day about the decision by the committee. He had been in contact with the project staff since the day after Sam's fever broke. No word had been received as of that time. Al had provided the contact information of where he was staying in Durango. He figured that sometime this next week, they would know if Sam's dream of building Project Quantum Leap would come to fruition. Al sincerely hoped the answer would be yes. .


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

It was either very late in the middle of the night or very early in the morning depending on how you wanted to look at it when Sam woke again. The only light on in the room was the one over his bed that aimed up at the ceiling bathing the room in a very dim light.

"Mom?" Sam asked when he saw his mother by his bedside.

"I'm right here, Sweetheart," Thelma said getting up from her chair and sitting on the edge of the bed near Sam.

"What are you still doing here? It's got to be really late."

"According to the clock it's really early." Thelma brushed Sam's bangs back from his forehead. "I wasn't quite ready to leave you alone yet. How are you feeling?"

Sam seemed to mull the question over for a little bit. "Really tired. That must sound strange since I've pretty much been sleeping for two weeks."

"Not so strange. Your body's had to do a lot of healing in those two weeks. I'm sure that's taken a lot out of you." She gently grabbed Sam's hand pushing it down to rest on his chest when he reached for the n-g tube. "You need to leave that alone. It's helping you."

"I don't like it. It's uncomfortable and it's making my nose itch and my throat sore." When Thelma let go of his hand, he again attempted to pull on the n-g tube. Again his hand was intercepted before it reached its mark.

"I know it's not very comfortable but you need to leave it alone until Dr. Williams takes it out." Thelma again rested Sam's hand on his chest and patted it lightly.

Sam stubbornly continued to insist on taking out the feeding tube. "I don't need it anymore. I'm awake and I can eat on my own."

Thelma again pulled his hands down from his face. "I'm sure, Sweetie but how about if we let Dr. Williams make that decision. How would you feel if one of your patients didn't follow your orders, Dr. Beckett?" She smiled as she said the latter.

"That's not fair, Mom." He stopped. "Okay, I admit that I wouldn't like that one bit," Sam said, finally acquiescing to his mother's wishes. He changed the subject. "Can I some water? I'm awful thirsty."

"Sure thing." Thelma reached for cup water. This time Sam was not only able to drink out of the straw but, with his mother's assistance, was also able to hold the cup.

"Why don't you go back to sleep and rest now," Thelma suggested when Sam was done with the water.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You should go back to the hotel or wherever you're staying and get some sleep, too. I don't want you wearing yourself out."

Thelma got up from the bed and leaned down to smooth out and tuck the blanket around Sam. "If I didn't know better, young man, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."

"No, Mom, I'm not. I just thought you might be tired."

"If I am it's a good kind of tired because I've been taking care of my son." Satisfied with the way the blankets were Thelma kissed Sam on the forehead and straightened up. "Now it's time for you to be quiet, close your eyes and go back to sleep and I don't want to hear any buts."

"Yes, Ma'am." Sam rolled over onto his side curling up and dropping almost instantly back to sleep.

Thelma again smoothed out the blanket that had been pulled askew with Sam's movements and sat back down in the chair to watch her son sleep.


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

The next day Al walked into Sam's room with a box wrapped in paper with a big bow. Sam was awake, finishing his breakfast under the watchful eyes of his mother. Al immediately noticed the absence of the n-g tube and breathed a sigh of relief. It was just one more sign that Sam was on his way to recovery.

He had taken a final bite right before Al walked in. "What's that," he mouthed around the oatmeal.

"Well, you told me that I owed you a sweater. Surprise, here it is."

Sam reached out and took the box. He opened it, ripping the paper off and lifting the lid. When he saw the sweater, his face blanched. "Ummm. Gee Al. It's…ummm…it's really…interesting."

Thelma had started to say something when she caught sight of Al's face. He had a finger to his lips and held up a bag behind his back that she could see and Sam couldn't. She caught the suggestion that she should just follow along. She'd learned to trust Al during the almost two weeks they'd been Sam's team together and this looked like it could prove very interesting. "Yes, Sam. Quite interesting. I like the orange, lemon, and lime green squiggles. It looks almost tropical. I think it'll look just splendid on you," she said following along with the joke Al has begun.

Sam didn't want to hurt Al's feelings and his mother seemed to like it. Maybe it really was better than he thought it was. He looked at it again, trying to discern what his mother saw in it. "Well I guess I could get used to it. It's…uh…it's definitely different. Not quite the same as the one I lost, though."

Al brought the bag from behind his back, rested it on the edge of the bed, and reached into it. Nonchalantly he said, "Oh, you mean this boring sweater?" as he pulled out the cream colored cotton Irish knit sweater that Sam had claimed to be one of his favorites when they'd left it behind on the mountain.

Sam's face crinkled in a grin as he reached out to grab it. "Gimme that. Geez, Al. I thought I'd really have to wear this one." He gestured to the one in the box.

Al laughed. "You're still too easy, Sam! As for that sweater, that one's for me. You could never handle something that hot."

"Thank God for that!" Sam was smiling, looking over his newly returned sweater and handling the box back to Al.

Thelma smiled at the gentle banter between Al and Sam, realizing for the first time that it reminded her of how Tom and Sam used to talk - back before her oldest son had left them for the jungles of Vietnam.

It had taken two years for the deep bond of brotherhood to go both ways between Tom and Sam. Sam had felt it immediately following Tom around like a puppy as soon as he could crawl and then walk. Tom, on the other hand, had found Sam to be the most useless of God's creations for those two years. He'd even gone so far as to try to put Sam out with the rubbish one time. John had caught him trying to stuff his baby brother into the trashcan in the kitchen.

Once they'd bonded, though, they'd been nearly inseparable. Tom was Sam's idol and he did whatever he could to follow in his footsteps always pushing to be as good as his brother had been in everything. When Sam had set his sights on following in his brother's footsteps and securing an appointment of his own to the Naval Academy, Tom had sat him down and told him he had to follow his own dreams. Little did he know at the time that he'd be the one to make Sam's dream a possibility with his GI life insurance policy.

Tom's death had devastated Sam. It was as if a part of him had been ripped away when Tom had died and it only grew worse the day of the funeral. Sam had managed to get around his father and had seen his brother's body in the casket and it had affected him deeply. He had been hysterical with grief screaming out over and over about Tom's face. John had finally resorted to slapping Sam across the face to get him to stop screaming. Thelma had never been sure what frightened her the most that day: Sam's hysterical cries, John slapping his son for the first time in his life, or the two of them on the floor crying. She'd never asked John or Sam what it was they'd seen in that room. It had been too painful and if that wound were ever to heal, it would have to be ignored.

Sam had been calm for the rest of the day at the funeral and back at the house when the family came over. He'd gone to bed early that night and fallen immediately into a sound sleep. Thelma had allowed herself to believe that whatever had affected Sam so deeply was over until his screams had filled the house late that evening. It had taken both her and John to rouse him from the dream and even then, he'd been terrified and skittish. She'd stayed beside him that long night rocking him back to sleep each time the dream would come. Finally, he'd dropped into a deep sleep that he hadn't roused from for two days. Thelma had been so afraid that she was going to lose both of her sons and even when Dr. Berger assured them that Sam was just in shock and should be allowed to sleep it off and come out of it naturally she'd still worried until he'd finally awoken. He seemed to have no memory of what had happened at the funeral home. Whenever it was mentioned, he'd get a strange look on his face but claim to remember nothing. Dr. Berger assured them that he'd just blocked it from his mind and that, perhaps, it might be best to leave it at that.

To her knowledge, Thelma didn't think Sam had ever remembered the events of that day. She knew he still was often visited by horrible dreams about his brother's death but he still claimed to have only a fuzzy memory of the funeral. She didn't want to think of what effect there would be if and when he ever did remember.

When Dr. LoNigro had contacted the family after hearing of Tom's death, John and Thelma had voiced their concerns about Sam. Dr. LoNigro had offered to take Sam into his home before the semester started and give him the chance to regain the balance he'd lost when Tom had not returned from Vietnam. Sam was told that it would be a good idea to get to know Cambridge before classes started and he'd readily agreed. Thelma had sensed in Sam a need to get away from the farm and memories.

Sam didn't come home for Thanksgiving his second year at MIT while he was finishing his bachelor's degree. He'd said that if he was going to finish his bachelors by the next spring, he needed the time. Thelma had always felt it was really due to the memory of the Thanksgiving before he entered school. The last one when Tom was home, as well as the events that happened the first Thanksgiving after Tom's death.

At Tom's last Thanksgiving, the boys had gone out pheasant hunting, Tom bringing home one pheasant and Sam two. Then the showdown game with Bentleyville, Sam doing his best show big brother he was as good a basketball player only to have No-Nose Prewitt humiliate him in front of everyone at the game. Tom had said it was all right but Sam had been crushed, feeling he'd let everyone down. Tom had left a few days later and they received the news five months later that Tom would be coming home for burial.

The Thanksgiving after that, Sam had dutifully come home but it hadn't been much of a holiday. First John had told him that they had no choice but to sell off the farm and move into town. It was either that or wait a few more months and it would be foreclosed on. They'd been having trouble making ends meet for a while now and it had gotten to a point where they just couldn't keep the farm anymore.

Sam had also had a mysterious accident in the barn that had left him with a blackened left eye and the right side of his face bruised. He'd never explained what had happened. The nightmares had also started again waking him in the middle of the night.

Sam seemed to do fine in school. He finished his bachelor's, walking for his diploma May of 1972 to receive his B.S. in Physics. In addition to being accepted into the doctoral program in Physics at MIT, he'd been accepted into the Music Doctoral Program at Harvard and played at Carnegie Hall right after his nineteenth birthday in August of 1972. Katie, John, and Thelma had flown to New York and listened as Sam literally played to a packed house ending with a standing ovation. John had been proud of Sam but his sudden death two months later had thrown the family into further turmoil.

Sam hadn't made it home on time for John's funeral. Looking back now, Thelma understood that fate had conspired against him, preventing him from reaching his destination as planned. Sam had tried desperately to make it home, and had showed up about two hours late. Both Thelma and Katie had been in such pain and neither had been willing to give Sam the benefit of understanding how much pain he was in as well. Katie had refused to talk with him unless she had to and Thelma herself had been blind to how things were affecting Sam. Within a year and half, Katie had married and moved out of the house. Thelma stayed on in Elk Ridge for a few years working at the bank, finally moving to Hawaii with Katie after she divorced Chuck.

For six years after his father's death, Sam had held in his anguish, not wanting to cause any further upset to his mother. He turned to school for solace. Not understanding, Thelma felt he'd simply turned his heart off. He rarely showed up for holidays and she began to think it was because he felt he didn't have to spend that time with his family anymore never understanding it was guilt that kept him away.

She remembered when he got his doctorates in Physics and Music, Thelma had told Sam she couldn't be there as she had just moved to Hawaii. She hadn't meant it to hurt him, not consciously anyway, but Sam had taken this as further evidence that she was still upset with him. Looking back to that time, she now was able to admit that in a lot of ways she was. He'd gone straight into his medical coursework, receiving both his MD and Ph.D. in computer science three years later.

Thelma knew the MD was for her. She'd always been proud of Sam when he'd shown an interest in medicine, telling John that she just knew he'd make a wonderful doctor. She saw in Sam's eyes the day he received the title of Doctor of Medicine the hope that she'd forgive him and she had, angry at herself for allowing six years to go by, knowing that Sam's soul was still the kind and gentle one she'd seen from the moment of his birth. He'd never turned off his heart, only found a way to use school to protect it even as it was breaking. He'd broken down in tears when she'd given him the keychain as a token of his achievement. The simple words "I'm so proud of you" had been the balm to heal the heart had been shattered by the cascading events since his brother had died.

She'd known his relationship with Dr. LoNigro had been the only one that had kept him focused during those six years and wasn't surprised when Sam followed him to England in 1978. The fact that he got two more degrees while there had become his pattern. Every three years he got two doctorates.

When he'd arrived back in the states, Thelma had talked with Dr. LoNigro voicing her concern about Sam and his future. Dr. LoNigro told her he had similar concerns but stated that he'd tried to provide the stability that Sam had needed, hoping that Sam himself would choose to break out of the academic world. He spoke to her about the new opportunity that he'd heard about on a project in New Mexico. He was going to recommend to the project managers that Sam would be a perfect addition to their team. The offer had come the next year and Sam had left academia for the real world twelve years after Tom's death.

She knew that it was on that project that Sam had met Al. The man was an alcoholic then and was close to losing his job. Sam had told her that he was going to do what he could to help Al Calavicci. She'd been afraid that this man would hurt her son by abusing the sacrifice Sam was willing to make of his own career and had been concerned during their continuing friendship that had kept growing stronger. Earlier this year when Sam had called to say he was getting married and that Al would be his best man, Thelma had wondered if he was the best choice for that role.

Seeing them now and remembering a few months before when 'that woman' had left her son at the altar, she realized what Sam had seen behind the façade that Albert Calavicci had built around his persona five years before. Sam had found a friend that truly cared about him, who filled in the holes that Tom and John's deaths had left. He hadn't replaced Sam's brother or father but his friendship had helped to heal the hurt. She looked at Al now and knew that as long as he was in Sam's life, Sam would have someone to count on. A true friend.

"Mom, you okay?" Sam asked concerned.

"What?" Thelma said coming back from her thoughts. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart, my mind was wandering there for a little while. Did you say something?"

"Not me, Al did. He wanted to know if you thought I could pull off that monstrosity he bought." Sam tilted his head slightly to the side giving his mother and appraising look. "You sure you're okay, Mom. You should probably go back to the hotel to get some rest."

"Of course I'm fine. Didn't I say I was? Now as for that sweater, though I do believe it's quite an interesting pattern and will look quite dandy on Al I don't believe it would suit you at all. That lime green would clash horribly with your eyes."

Thelma sat visiting with Sam and Al for another hour. When she left the room to go back and get some rest, she knew that her son would be in good hands.

0000000

"You know, I think she finally likes me," Al said after Thelma had left the room.

"Of course she does," Sam answered distracted. Somehow, it had always eluded him that his mother thought less than highly of Al. "Did she look tired to you?"

"Of course she's tired. She's been worrying about you night and day for almost three weeks now. I think she has a right to be tired but that's just it," Al reassured seeing the wheels in Sam's head turning. "She's just tired. Now that you're well on the way to recovery she won't be worrying about you anymore and she'll be right as rain in no time."

"Yeah, I guess," Sam responded though he still sounded unsure.

"So, I just gotta ask. Did you wait for the doc to come take out the feeding tube or did you do it yourself? I was surprised you didn't demand Dr. Williams do it when he was in last night."

"I would have if I hadn't fallen asleep right away. To answer your question, I waited for Dr. Williams to do it – though I was tempted to do it myself during the night."

Sam and Al exchanged small talk for another little while before once again Sam's body demanded the healing power of sleep. Al couldn't help but chuckle when he dropped off right in the middle of a sentence.


	32. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Over the next few days, Sam continued to improve. The day after he came out of the coma, Dr. Williams told Al and Thelma they'd no longer be able to keep their round the clock 24-hour vigil.

"He needs to rest and resume a normal sleep pattern," he'd told them. "You may not think it, but it's hard for someone to get proper rest with someone else watching them while they sleep. This is in Sam's best interest."

Thelma and Al both put up an argument wanting to continue with the status quo. Sam was the one to put an end to the dispute. "He's right. It is awful hard to sleep with one of you hovering over me all the time. I'm a big boy – I've been sleeping in a room by myself for over 30 years. I think I can handle it for a few days here in the hospital."

Sam's logic finally won Al and Thelma over and from the second day on, they only visited with him during the hospital's proscribed visiting hours of noon to 8:00.

Sam had requested that Al bring him a razor and other toiletries. Al had been happy to do so and Sam removed the three-week growth of hair on his face, his mother commenting on how nice he looked clean-shaven. He told Al that when they got back to New Mexico, he'd have to see the barber.

The fourth day Katie had called to let Sam and Thelma know they had moved the wedding date. Katie and Jim had discussed it and they decided to move the wedding to February, wanting to make sure Sam had enough time to recover fully. They'd had new invitations printed giving the new date, February 14, 1988, and had sent them out. Sam felt bad about causing so many changes, but Katie told him she wanted him to be able to celebrate with them and she wasn't sure he'd be strong enough by November. Besides, she figured this way Jim wouldn't forget their anniversary.

Sam passed his mental evaluation easily. Dr. Marks was initially quite amazed and excited at Sam's responses until she'd learned that he had an estimated IQ of 235. Then she indicated that under the circumstances Sam's responses were completely normal. She told them that she couldn't find anything to be concerned about. Sam would make a full recovery with no lasting neurological problems. She did warn that he might feel the effects of the concussion for another couple of weeks in the form of mild headaches but unless they were severe, persisted past a couple of weeks or were accompanied by any other symptoms that they were perfectly normal and shouldn't be cause for worry.

On the nineteenth day since he'd entered the hospital, twenty-five days after the plane had crashed into the mountain, Al entered the room carrying a bag, a somber look on his face. Sam had just come back from therapy and was sitting on the bed waiting to hear from Dr. Williams whether he would be discharged that day.

"Is something wrong, Al?" Thelma asked.

"Um. No. Not really."

"Then why the long face? You look like someone just told you your dog died" Sam added.

"Well. I've just heard from the committee…"

Sam's first reaction was a pained look to the ceiling. Al's face clearly showed that his dream wouldn't be fulfilled. He jumped up pacing, agitated, and upset. "I knew it. They didn't fund us. That's why you're upset."

"I'm not upset, Sam."

"Yes you are. Why would you have that look on your face if you weren't?"

"Cause I told you, you're too easy, Sam," he said suddenly smiling. "Actually, we received full funding. We can start work on your project as soon as we get back to New Mexico."

Sam stood there a moment, stunned. Then he yelled out "All right!" and a smile spread from ear to ear.

Thelma hugged Sam. "I'm so happy for you!"

Sam hugged her back. "I wish I could tell you what it's all about, Mom, but it's top secret. I'd really have to kill you if I told you." He looked over to Al. "I'm going to get you for that one sometime, Calavicci!" Al just bounced on his feet, smiling.

"Then don't tell me," Thelma answered smiling. "Really, it's all right that I don't know. Just knowing that you're happy is enough for me to see. Just do me one favor, tell me it's nothing dangerous and that you'll be safe."

"Don't worry, Mom, nothing's gonna happen," Sam assured her.

Dr. Williams stepped into the room then. "Well, I'm glad everyone is here." He looked over to Sam. "I've got some very good news for you but it looks like you've already been celebrating. According to your therapist, you're making excellent progress. We feel confident in releasing you today. That's assuming you want to leave us?"

"No offence," Sam said, his grin broadening, "but I've love it if you'd spring me. This is a great place, but I've been here long enough."

"I thought you might say that. My understanding is you've met with Dr. Ladd?"

"Yes. He said I should be able to address the Bankart's Lesion issue back in New Mexico and that he could refer me to an orthopedic surgeon in Albuquerque. He said I should just be careful until I can get the appointment set up."

"Excellent. I'll also be forwarding your history on to Dr. Northrop in Albuquerque as well. I'd suggest making an appointment with him to follow up on that kidney as soon as possible. Most likely he'll have an initial meeting with you and then follow up with you again in three months. Other than that I'd have to say you're free and clear." Dr. Williams put out his hand to shake Sam's. "Doctor Beckett, it's been a pleasure to treat you. I wish you well. You know, you have two people here that have more dedication to you than just about any I've ever seen before."

"Yeah. They're two pretty terrific people! I'm lucky to have them on my side."

Dr. Williams said goodbye to Al and Thelma as well and then went out to sign the paperwork that would allow Sam to leave.

"I hope that's a change of clothes you have in that bag," Sam said pointing to the bag Al was still holding.

"I hope they meet with your approval," Al said surrendering the bag over to Sam who disappeared in the bathroom to change.

When Sam emerged from the bathroom dressed in jeans and plain white button down shirt a few minutes later, his body was practically vibrating with impatience. He was buckling his belt as he walked back into the room. "Is he back yet?" he asked.

"Patience, Sam," Thelma counseled him. "You know these things can take a little time. Just sit down and wait and they'll be in with your discharge paperwork before you know it."

As they waited, they made their plans.

"The first thing we're doing when I get out of here is I'm taking the two of you out to the best steak house we can find in this city. Between freeze-dried cuisine, n-g tube feeding, and hospital food I'm ready for some real honest to God food! The only thing I've eaten that's tasted really decent has been that half a cannoli but I fell asleep before I could finish that."

"Whoa, hold up there, Sam. I'm all for a celebratory dinner but it's already pretty late in the afternoon and you're just getting out of the hospital. Let's give it at least until tomorrow before you're going out on the town," Al said.

"He's right," Thelma added in before Sam could get a chance to argue. "The only thing you're doing once they release you from here is going back to the hotel."

Sam looked at the two determined faces in front of him and weighed his chances of waging a winning battle. He quickly deduced that any battle he tried would quickly be lost as he realized he'd be fighting two fronts simultaneously. "Okay," he acquiesced, "I'll go back to the hotel tonight but tomorrow we're going out, no ifs, ands, or buts about it."

Once dinner plans were determined, Thelma said that she would need to make reservations for a flight back to Hawaii. They called the airline and reserved a flight to Denver that would leave the day after tomorrow. She would be able to catch a flight to Hawaii after a one-hour layover there.

Once the reservations were made, they called Katie to let her know the good news and to let her know when Thelma would be arriving back in Hawaii. She'd told them she wanted to be called no matter what time it was in Hawaii. With any luck, they'd manage to catch her before she left for work. She was thrilled when she heard the news that her brother would be leaving the hospital and told him that he'd better not have any more problems before February and certainly no more camping trips.

"I'm not gonna have time anyways, Katie. My project has been funded. I can start on getting it built and working. That's going to take all my time for a while. Except for my time in Hawaii in February, of course. I'll be there for you, sis."

"I know you will, Sam. Now put Al on the phone, I need to talk to him."

Sam handed the phone over to Al. "She wants to talk to you."

"What about?" Al asked taking the phone.

"How should I know? Ask her."

"Hi Katie, what's up honey."

"Al, I have to ask you an important question and if you say no I'll understand completely."

"Ask away."

"I'd like you to be an usher at my wedding. Jim and I both want you here."

"It would be my honor," Al told her truly touched that she'd asked him.

"Great! That way you can make sure Sam gets to my wedding in one piece."

"I'll do my best," Al chuckled. "I've got a feeling getting him out of a lab once we get back to New Mexico might take a bomb so it shouldn't be too hard."

"Good, the worst thing he should have from that is a paper cut. Can you put Mom on now?"

"Sure, honey, hang on a second."

Al handed the phone over to Thelma.

"Katie, honey, isn't this just the best news?" Thelma asked in delight.

"It sure is Mom. I just wanted to say I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

"It's late and I really need run or I'm going to be late for work. Give my love to everyone."

"I will. I'll call you when I get into Denver."

"Okay, Mom, I'll see you in a couple of days. Bye"

Sam was a bit worried about getting back on a plane to go back to New Mexico but Al set his mind at rest, "We're driving back to Socorro, Sam."

"Good. I think it's gonna be a while before I can get on a plane again, although I guess I'll have to going to Hawaii. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to get in a small plane again. Speaking of which, have you talked to your friend George since the accident?"

"Yeah. His insurance will cover it, but I'll be listed as an exclusion on the policy for his next plane. He doesn't understand what happened either. He said that when he last checked the emergency transponder, it was working just fine. This is truly a mystery occurrence."

"Hmmm. Well, I guess we should just be happy it all turned out all right. You know we still need to eat dinner tonight no matter how long it is that I'm out of here," Sam said trying once again to cajole them into going out to dinner.

"That's why hotels have room service," Al pointed out. "We'll make due with that tonight and celebrate to your heart's content tomorrow."

"I wish I could make you those griddle cakes for breakfast tomorrow, Sam."

"What?" Sam asked caught off guard by the seeming non-sequiter

"Al told me you wanted my griddle cakes while you were up on the mountain," Thelma clarified for him.

"Yeah, I did. There are only so many mornings you can eat freeze-dried eggs. You think when I come to Hawaii for the wedding…"

"Absolutely. First breakfast you're there."

Sam smiled broadly. A few minutes later, the nurse came in with the final paperwork for Sam's discharge. After everything was explained and all the forms were signed, Sam was wheeled out, per hospital policy, to Al's waiting rental.


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

In the end, Sam was glad that they hadn't gone out for the celebratory dinner. A half hour after they got to the hotel the excitement of day had caught up with him and he'd crashed sleeping until after 7:00. When he'd woken up, they'd ordered their dinner from room service. It wasn't the best restaurant in town but to Sam it may as well have been. It was neither freeze-dried, liquid pumped into his stomach, nor hospital food. His taste buds thought the baked chicken he ordered tasted about as close to heaven as he'd get at that particular moment

Since they'd only be in Durango a couple of days, they'd decided it would be more practical for Sam to share the room that Al already had at the hotel. Since Thelma's room was an adjoining, it would simply be a matter of keeping the door between the rooms open so she could keep an eye on her son.

Long after dinner had been eaten and they'd all retired to their beds Thelma silently stole into the room and stood looking down at Sam sleeping.

"I've been doing the same thing myself," Al whispered into the darkness startling her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay. I didn't realize you were awake." Thelma reached down to brush the bangs back from Sam's forehead but hesitated not wanting her touch to wake him up. "I'm just so grateful to see him sleeping peacefully here and not in that hospital bed."

"I know what you mean," Al said getting up from his bed to stand opposite Thelma looking down at Sam. "There were a few times I didn't think I'd ever see this again. I'm glad someone decided it wasn't his time yet." He looked up at Thelma in the dark. "You should go back to bed and get some sleep."

"So should you, Al," Thelma countered.

"The both of you need to go back to bed and sleep and stop staring at me," Sam groggily voiced from his bed. "Do you know how hard it is to sleep with two people staring at you?" Sam rolled over onto his stomach burying his face in the pillow and effectively cutting off any further conversation with his two watchers.

Thelma let out a soft laugh before leaning down and kissing Sam on the back of the head. "Sleep well, Sweetheart," she said before padding back to her room

"Yeah, Kid, sleep well," Al said before climbing back into his own bed.

0000000

The only thing that spared Thelma and Al from having to tie Sam down to keep him in the hotel room was the stack of forms that were couriered by the committee that he had to sign. Not one to complacently sign everything put in front of him, Sam made sure to read everything first. As much as Sam's eyes glazed over, though, Al wasn't sure how much he really comprehended before signing his name. Then again, Al knew it was almost an art to understand most of the government forms and contracts. Al's many years of working with such contracts allowed him to scan them before handing them to Sam for his more in depth reading. He knew the contracts were fair and covered the bases for both the government and Sam's company.

On the advice of the desk clerk, Al had made reservations for the three of them at the Hamilton Chop House near the Durango Mountain resort. Its wide widows offered beautiful, picturesque views of the mountains.

"Hard to believe something so beautiful was almost so deadly," Sam commented after the hostess had seated them.

Thelma looked out the window admiring the view as well. "They certainly are beautiful. I have to say, this trip was definitely not like my first trip to Colorado. Your father and I honeymooned in Colorado Springs at the Broadmoor Hotel. Going up Pikes Peak on the Cog Railway was quite memorable."

"Wait a minute," Sam said. "I thought you and Dad went to Chicago after you were married. I didn't know you'd come out to Colorado."

"We did go to Chicago – or at least we started out there. Your father wanted to take his 'best girl' to the nicest hotel he could. The Broadmoor's always had a reputation for excellence so John bought us train tickets and we came out west. It was a lovely surprise. Of course your brother was a wonderful souvenir of the trip," Thelma finished with a twinkle in her eye.

"Mom!" Sam said shocked. "I didn't need to know that."

Al couldn't help but laugh at Sam's discomfort.

"Why Sam," Thelma continued perfectly innocent, "you certainly didn't think you, your sister and your brother appeared by magic did you."

"No," Sam said as he squirmed in his seat and blushed. "I'd just rather not think of that, okay?"

Again, Al let out a bark of laughter at Sam's embarrassment.

Sam shot Al a dirty look then did his best to change the subject. "Well, all I can say is that I'll definitely remember my first trip to the Rockies. If this one is my last, I don't think I'll be too sad.

"This isn't your first trip to the Rockies, Sweetheart. You've been here once before."

"Really?" Sam questioned. "When?"

"Don't you remember that trip out west with Nana and Papa Lowther? Tom was nine and you were three." Thelma let out a soft laugh at a memory of the trip. "You insisted on wearing your cowboy hat and fringed vest constantly. I could barely get them off of you at night to go to bed. We traveled on the train to Denver and then to Glenwood Springs."

Sam's face seemed to light up as memories of the trip came back to him. "Denver was the place that had the gold dome on the capitol and Glenwood Springs was the place with the big swimming pool. Nana and Papa took Tom and me swimming. I remember seeing the mountains from the train and a really long tunnel. Tom scared me in that tunnel."

"Yes, all that happened on that trip." Thelma got another gleam in her eye but Sam quickly cut her off.

"Please don't tell me about anything you and Dad brought home that you didn't have when you started the trip."

Thelma smiled sweetly but said no more. Al, on the other hand, wasn't able to let it go. He'd found a way to make Sam squirm and he wasn't going to let it pass him by. "So, was Sam the only one who didn't come by way of Colorado?"

"Al! That's my mom."

This time it was Thelma's turn to laugh at her son's embarrassment. "Oh, Sam's definitely got his roots in Indiana. I guess you could say that I got more treat than trick on Halloween," she said as she reached to caress her son's cheek.

Sam couldn't even find words to protest the conversation this time and just turned a deep shade of red while Thelma and Al laughed. Finally, he joined in on the laughter too and it felt good. After all the fighting, the worry, and the fear of the past weeks it felt good just to laugh.

At the end of the meal, Al proposed a toast. Since Sam was still on a variety of medications that precluded the use of alcohol and it was something that Al now avoided, all three had glasses of sparkling cider.

He turned to Thelma, "Your trust in me the last two weeks has been a blessing. I've been without family for quite sometime and being with you and yours makes me feel I've found a home." To Sam, he said, "Sam, I don't know what you ever saw in me but I'm glad that you took the chance. I can't imagine where I'd be if it wasn't for you. I look forward to watching your dream become a reality in only a few short years and I'm honored to be not only your partner but also your friend. Finally, he raised the glass and said "To new beginnings."

Both Thelma and Sam were stunned by Al's heartfelt words to each of them. At Al's last statement, they too raised their glasses and echoed back "To new beginnings."

As Sam raised his glass, he noticed the glint of dull gold on his finger. Setting the glass down, he pulled the ring off. "Thanks for this. When things got the worst on the mountain, when I was alone, it helped me to remember that you wouldn't leave me alone – that you'd do everything you could to come back for me." He looked down at the ring again. "I think I would have wandered off from the tent long before I finally did if you didn't leave it with me. It gave me something to hang onto, at least while I wasn't delirious." Sam handed the ring over to Al.

Al nodded as he took the ring from Sam and slipped it back on his hand where it had stayed since he had returned from Vietnam. Al had only taken it off when piloting during a mission. After his plane had gone down and he'd been captured, the ring had found its way back to Beth. She'd kept it, even after having him declared dead. When he returned, he'd received the ring in a box while he was recovering at the hospital. It took months before his fingers would hold the ring again, but other than these past three weeks when he knew Sam needed the ring more then him, or when it would have posed the danger of losing his finger, it had never left his finger.

"There was no way I'd have ever left you, Sam. We're friends and we're partners. I don't think I've ever known someone quite like you and I'd be damned before I let some mountain take you away." With no further words, Al got up and came around the table grabbing Sam in a bear hug. Since Al had never been an overly touchy/feely person, generally Sam had always instituted any hugs between the two in the past so Sam was caught off-guard for just a second. Once he regained his bearings, he returned the hug equally as strong.

By the time the evening ended, Sam's energy levels were starting to flag. Dr. Williams had warned that it would take a couple of weeks until he felt his old energy and that he shouldn't push himself more than necessary.

When the check came for dinner there'd been a small argument as to who was going to pay it that Sam quickly won. Pulling out his wallet, he handed a credit card to the server.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Thelma began when the server had walked away. "Why don't you have a better wallet than that, although I'll admit to surprise that you even have one?"

Sam looked down to the wallet and up to meet Al's eyes. "It was a gift from a good friend," he answered his mother. "He said it was to help me get organized but it meant more than that to me."

Though the answer was cryptic, Thelma didn't ask Sam to elaborate on it having a feeling that the friend he was talking about was Al.

Sam was asleep in the car almost as soon as they pulled out of the parking lot. He roused long enough to go into the hotel, get changed, and fall into bed sound asleep again. Al and Thelma also turned in early themselves. Tomorrow would be a busy day seeing Thelma off at the airport and Sam and Al starting the drive back to Socorro.


	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

The final call was coming over the PA system for Thelma's flight to Denver. She'd delayed boarding the plane as long as she could wanting to spend as much time with Sam as possible before leaving but they'd reached the point where she could delay no more.

"I love you, Sammy, and I'm going to miss you," she said as she enfolded him in a warm hug.

"I love you too, Mom. We'll be seeing each other again really soon. You're still coming to New Mexico for Christmas, right? That's just around the corner and then Katie's wedding in February. You're going to get tired of seeing me."

"That could never happen," she said framing his face with her hands. "You take care of yourself and call me. I want to know you've reached New Mexico safely."

"I will. You better go now, before you miss your flight."

"I love you," she said again and kissed him on the cheek. Thelma quickly grabbed Al in a hug. "Thank you for all you've done for my son. He really is lucky to have you as friend." Before she released him, she whispered in his ear, "Take care of him for me."

"I will, Ma'am" Al answered her seriously as he returned the hug. "You have a safe flight," he told her when he'd released her.

After another quick hug for Sam, she turned and departed onto the tarmac, walking quickly to climb the stairs to the plane. She made it just as they were getting ready to close the doors.

Sam and Al stood at the window watching until Thelma's plane had taxied to the runway and took off.

"You ready to head on back?" Al asked dropping a hand to Sam's shoulder.

"Yeah, I am. It's time to end this trip and start a whole new part of life."

The two walked side by side out of the airport to the car Al had rented. With Al in the driver 's seat, they headed back to New Mexico. Sam reflected back on the last four weeks realizing how truly thankful he was to be facing those new beginnings that Al had so eloquently referred to the night before. Just before they crossed the city line, Sam couldn't help looking in the rearview mirror at the mountains behind them. They'd nearly cost him his life but in the end they'd given him a deeper friendship with Al and had been the birthplace of new beginnings.


End file.
